How Little We Know
by Tsiishch'li
Summary: 20 months before Tessa Gray traveled to London, Will and Jem met a mysterious girl running from a demon. Who is she? Why is she able to see through glamour? Rated T because I'm paranoid. Jem/OC *Important! Finished before Clockwork Prince*
1. Mysteries & Surprises

**Author's note:** Hello everyone! This is my very first fanfiction, so I would appreciate any constructive criticism you may have. Please review! Also, please don't flame the OC just yet. There won't be much of my character until the next chapter. If my character seems a little too perfect after chapter two, then you can flame away, or you can send me advice on how to improve. Your choice.

The title is derived from the poetry at the start of Chapter 2 of Clockwork Angel: _"Between two worlds life hovers like a star, / 'Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge. / How little we know that which we are! / How less what we may be!"_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything that is recognizable as from The Infernal Devices. All of that belongs to Cassandra Clare; it's just getting caught up in my twisted imagination. I do, however, own my OC.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Mysteries &amp; Surprises<strong>

_Early October, 1876_

"Where did the blasted thing disappear to?"

William Herondale swore again, much stronger this time, as he took in the seemingly deserted street. His companion, a silver-haired boy, sent Will a reproving glance.

"Try not to fret, Will," James Carstairs spoke softly. "Hydra demons are not known for their cleverness. It couldn't have gone far."

The two sixteen-year-old Shadowhunters had spent the majority of their evening tracking a rampaging Hydra demon through the streets of London, until they finally cornered it in this particular area. Unfortunately, the street that the Hydra had chosen to seek refuge in was comprised of numerous alleyways that sprouted off from the main road and twisted into different directions. Most of those alleys were connected to both each other and the core street; the result being, of course, a maze of narrow paths to search. To make matter worse for the boys, it was a dark night. The only light came from flickering gaslight lamps, which were few and far between, and their witchlight stones. Cloud cover prevented the full moon, or the stars, from lending their aide to the boys' cause.

Both young men had recognized this particular street the second they stepped onto it. It was, in fact, what spurred Will's swearing. Both he and Jem knew well enough that this would most likely prove to be a very long night.

Jem stepped up to the nearest alley and raised his witchlight, scattering shadows. "If we don't start now, we shall never finish tonight. Come on, Will."

Will muttered something that sounded like, "it's only one Hydra; it won't destroy the city," but joined Jem anyway.

Jem immediately fell a step behind Will. He was always rear guard, since Will never remembered to check his back. The young men walked in silence through the twisting alleyways, trying to listen for any clues as to where the thing vanished to. Debris littered the rough surfaces: empty caskets and barrels stood or lay on their sides, broken boards that had worn off structures lay askew everywhere, bits of chairs and tables that could no longer serve their purpose scattered here and there, and then there were the broken windows that strewn the ground with glass shards. The rubble transformed the maze into an obstacle course that threatened to trip, slice, or otherwise hinder the Shadowhunters, forcing them to watch their step as much as they watched for their quarry.

As time passed, the clouds blanketing the sky seemed to begin dispersing, which was rather strange for London. Ambient light from the sky was gradually increasing; while it did help illuminate the obstructions, it also made them throw strange shadows on the worn buildings. The Shadowhunters's witchlight stones served to twist those shadows as the boys passed, making them writhe and seemingly move of their own volition. This was especially disturbing whenever Jem glanced behind them. He wasn't easily unnerved, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He shifted his slender fingers on his walking cane, allowing for easier access to the blade hidden within it. Part of the problem was undoubtedly the silence. Will was very rarely so quiet; the black-haired boy usually talked incessantly.

The boys stepped out of yet another alley back onto the main street, which was still devoid of life. A realization struck Jem as they made their way toward the next section of the maze.

"You're upset because Charlotte didn't let us help track down that rogue warlock, aren't you?" Jem asked quietly. His tone wasn't accusatory at all, just mildly curious.

Will glanced at Jem, his blue eyes briefly meeting Jem's silver ones. "Yes, I am." His attention turned back to the alley. "A warlock attempting to summon Greater Demons for unknown purposes is much more interesting than a single Hydra. Besides, even Jessamine could take care of such a minor problem. This is a sad waste of my superior skill." Will stopped in the middle of the dark street and heaved an aggravated sigh. "We'll never get all of these alleys searched before dawn. Bloody hell, what kind of idiot summons a Hydra and then turns it loose? They're meant to be guard dogs, something to be controlled to your own advantage. They're not the most ideal demon to send on a rampage!"

Jem ignored the outburst and scanned the street for signs of life as he answered. "Charlotte and Henry are perfectly capable of searching for a warlock. He, or she, has not yet succeeded and therefore is not an immediate threat to the people of London. This Hydra, on the other hand, would happily slaughter any mundane it meets." He threw a sideways glance at Will. "Although, I have to admit you have a valid point. What could possibly be gained by turning loose a guard dog? But, as strange as this is, we still have a duty to the rid this city of the menace." He glanced at Will again. The other boy did not appear convinced. Jem's suspicion of not having persuaded him was confirmed when Will opened his mouth to answer.

Jem never got a chance to hear Will's answer, however. The sound of splintering wood, accompanied by an angry roar, came from a nearby alley. Both boys immediately took off running for the narrow opening, but before they arrived they saw something that made Jem's heart clench.

It seemed that the Hydra they had been so diligently tracking for hours had finally deigned to make an appearance. Unfortunately, it only did so to chase a mundane. A rather small boy ran out of the alley with surprising speed. He wore loose trousers, a work shirt, and a jacket, all of which were smeared with soot and dirt. He also wore a sailor's cap that bulged, making his head look misshapen. Jem caught a glance of his face as the boy ran by a flickering lamp and was a bit startled at how delicate the boy's features were.

But Jem did not have time to dwell on that anomaly. The Hydra chose that moment to lurch out of the same alley the boy had emerged from. Blessed with their near-inhuman speed, the two Shadowhunters were nearly on top of it. They each drew a dagger as they flanked the ugly three-headed creature. Blades slashed in unison and two of the Hydra's heads fell to the street. Will leaped as the beast stumbled, easily landing on the Hydra's back. He swung his hand with the dagger out again, jumping back to the street directly after the blade found its mark.

The now headless demon stumbled again and fell toward the street. It never hit the grimy cobblestones, though. The Hydra's body and three heads all disappeared, going back to its own world to die. The only remaining sign that it ever existed were splotches of black demon blood that pooled in the street and stained the Shadowhunters's leather-like gear.

Jem inspected his weapon. The acidic demon blood had already begun eating through the blade, rendering it useless. He tossed it into a puddle of the toxic stuff, glad he hadn't used the blade in his jade-headed cane. Jem then turned his attention back to the boy that the Hydra had chased out of the alley, hoping the lad would be smart enough to keep running. His hopes were in vain. The boy stood nearby, under the same flickering lamp he had run under before, and Jem was once again struck by the femininity of his features.

He also noticed another detail that should not have been present.

"Will!" the silver-haired boy said, quietly enough the mundane wouldn't hear him. "We have to catch that mundane."

Will was absorbed in the task of inspecting his clothes, making sure none of the damage was irreparable, and didn't even look up at Jem's declaration. "Why is that, James?"

Jem actually sounded exasperated as he started running toward the stranger. "Because we're still glamoured and he can see us!"

The boy started as if he heard what Jem said and darted off into the shadows of another alley, making Jem swear under his breath. Frustration soon turned into relief. The alley was a dead end. Jem stopped just inside the mouth of the narrow passage. There was a door at the other end, which the stranger was trying to open, but it must have been locked, for the slightly built boy gave up and turned to face Jem. He then proceeded to switch from flight to the other basic human instinct when faced with a threat: fight. He ran straight toward Jem as if he was going to attack. Jem was amazed by how fast the stranger was for a mundane but once again didn't have time to dwell on it. Waiting until the last possible moment, until just before the boy was within reach, Jem simply stepped aside and stuck the end of his cane out to trip the stranger.

But the mundane once again surprised the Shadowhunter. Instead of tripping over the cane and sprawling on the street, he leapt over it, twisting toward Jem as he did so. Jem moved back, seeing the boy's intention, but didn't move fast enough. The angle of the jump had never been right to allow the boy to land on his feet; as he fell, he stretched out his hands and clutched at Jem's arms. It was completely unavoidable. He was stunned that the mundane's reflexes were good enough to allow him to react like this.

The boy's momentum from the jump pulled Jem down to the street and he landed on top of the stranger. Jem once again heard his instincts screaming to him that something was wrong, but he ignored them. He didn't have time just yet to listen and figure out exactly what seemed odd about the stranger; the boy had used residual force from the fall to roll them over. He was now lying on top of Jem, pinning him to the street, one surprisingly strong arm pressed against his chest. The other arm was holding a knife to Jem's throat. His legs were drawn up, one knee on either side of Jem's waist. They were nose-to-nose.

The thinning clouds that had been obscuring the moon finally broke open, spilling bright silver light down on the scene. Jem stared up at the stranger, finally able to clearly see (and feel) exactly what about the boy had struck him as peculiar.

The boy was not a boy.

The sailor's cap had fallen off when the stranger rolled on top of Jem. Long, dark brown curls fell around the feminine face, framing it and highlighting a pair of hazel eyes. She had the smooth dark skin of the young American Indian, lighter than he had heard it was supposed to be, but her fine-boned features reminded him more of European bloodlines. Without the unusual combination, she would have been considered merely pretty; with it, she was strikingly beautiful. Enough so that it shone through the soot streaked across her face.

Jem was stunned. He had chased a boy, fought a boy, and now a young lady stunning enough to stop London traffic sat atop him. He could hardly think straight, much less move to dislodge her. When he didn't attempt to force the girl off of him, she narrowed her eyes and spoke in a slow Cajun drawl.

"Who are you and why can you keep up with me?"

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><p><strong>Please review! I'm a little OCD about writing, so all I can really see are the flaws. I won't know if it's any good or not if you don't tell me. If it's terrible, fine; if not, great! Either way, please, please review!<strong>


	2. Introductions & Scrutiny

**Author's note:** This one's a little longer than the first. The rest of the chapters shouldn't get very much longer than this. Once again, please, please review!

**Disclaimer: **All that is recognizable as from the Infernal Devices belongs to Cassandra Clare. My imagination and my character are the only elements that belong to me.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Introductions &amp; Scrutiny<strong>

The Institute loomed up into the night, its spires piercing and separating the velvet clouds once again blanketing the sky. Jinx Ó Bradagáin stared up at it as she stopped in front of the iron gates that kept unwanted persons, and things, out of the impressive edifice.

"Are you sure mundanes can't see that?" she asked in her Louisiana drawl. "If not, it's a damn shame." She immediately clapped a hand to her mouth and felt her hazel eyes widen in shock. "I am so sorry, it just slipped out."

Jem, who stood beside her, chuckled. "Trust me, Miss Ó Bradagáin, Will has said much worse within consecrated walls."

"If you stay very long, you'll hear it firsthand," Will declared with an impish grin.

Jinx glanced between the two Shadowhunters who stood on either side of her like bodyguards. Or prisoner escorts, depending on how one looked at it. Oh, well, she wasn't planning on running anyway. Not yet, at least; she was still much too curious.

Back in the street, after Will hauled her off Jem, she had learned something she had been yearning to hear her entire life.

The darker of the two boys, the one she hadn't attacked, had planted himself behind Jinx, holding her arms back so she couldn't get away. He wasn't particularly gentle about it, but she'd had her arms twisted a lot harder than that. The second of the pair got up off the ground, brushing dust off his leather-like clothes and gingerly probing the side of his head that connected with the cobblestones.

As Mr. Silver made sure he wasn't injured, Jinx couldn't help noticing the ink twisting around his neck and hands. Wherever there was a patch of his pale skin showing, the black marks were there as well. One in particular, on the back of his hand, caught her attention, but she didn't want to ask him about it for fear of betraying a secret. One that she didn't feel was hers to tell.

"Well, she's not a vampire," the one behind her said. "She has too much of a smell for that. And she would've used her fangs instead of a knife." Jinx assumed he must have looked at the silvery one and grinned then, because he had a smile in his voice when he said, "Just think, Jem, for all you knew you could've been cuddling with a dead person."

Mr. Silver, who she now knew was called Jem, had stepped closer to her while Mr. Chatty was talking and gave her a nod of acknowledgment. "I'm James Carstairs. The, ahem, 'gentleman' holding you is William Herondale. What is your name, Miss?"

Jinx took the time to look him over before answering. He had the strangest coloring she had ever seen. It was like he had spent too much time in the sun, but instead of making him darker the sun had washed all the color out of his skin and hair. And then there were his eyes. She stared into them for a moment, marveling at the odd color, noticing the shape that marked him as Chinese, and then she quietly answered him. "Ya'll can call me Jinx."

Those entrancing eyes narrowed slightly and his voice chilled. "Please tell me your full name."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. "Ríona Necwactāt Ó Bradagáin."

Eyebrows shot up, attempting to disappear into silver hair, and the upturned eyes widened, but the Asian boy with an English name did not say anything other than a mildly stuttered, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Ó Bradagáin."

William Herondale, on the other hand, was not so polite.

He let out a loose whistle. "Bloody hell, I'd introduce myself as Jinx too if I had a name like that. And that is quite a name for such a little thing. Were your parents hoping you'd grow into it?"

"They're dead."

Her soft statement made both boys pause. Jem gave her a sympathetic smile after he shot Herondale a warning glance. "I'm sorry to hear that. Where are you from?"

Jinx raised her chin and straightened her shoulders. This would prove to be one of the easiest questions to answer. "New Orleans, Louisiana." She was proud of having lived in that city; she loved all the colorful people, music, and languages, not to mention the scrumptious food. But there was one aspect of that city that she hadn't realized had become such a permanent part of her. So, she didn't realize until later that all the two boys heard was, "New Auwlans, Looziana."

Behind her, Will snorted with ill-suppressed laughter. "I can tell from that ghastly accent."

"Who's to say yours is any better, Herondale?" She felt the indignation welling up within her, triggering anger, and tried to quash it. The last thing she needed to do right now was lose her temper.

"Were your parents mundanes or Shadowhunters?" This diplomatic topic-changing question came from Jem, who sounded like he was attempting to keep his own amusement out of his voice. He failed, but the attempt was still there.

Jinx frowned. Were they making fun of the way she spoke? She decided to ignore it (for the sake of Jem's effort) and cocked her head to the side quizzically. "What's a Shadowhunter?"

"If you're claiming to not know who Shadowhunters are, you're lying."

The cold assertion from behind her back kindled the anger simmering just under the surface. "Who are you to say—"

"Well, for one thing you are much too fast to be a mundane. Secondly, you're obviously not a Downworlder. I know that because of number three: you have a Mark. It's impossible to have a Mark and not know about Shadowhunters." Herondale spoke seriously for the first time.

Fiery anger fizzled out as quickly as it had sparked, and Jinx's gaze dropped to the ground. Now she knew exactly what he was talking about. That black eye-shaped thing on the back of her right hand that she'd had since she was seven. _There's no point hiding anything now,_ she thought. _I'll just tell them the truth and see what happens._ "I've seen demons. I've known werewolves and vampires. And warlocks. Even a few faeries." Her head came up and her eyes met Jem's. "But I've never heard of Shadowhunters."

Jem held her gaze. "We are also known as Nephilim. Have you heard that term?"

Jinx shrugged as best she could with her arms still held by Herondale. "Maybe once or twice and only in passing reference. The topic is usually avoided. Ya'll don't seem to be very well liked."

Jem gave her a rueful little smile and motioned for Will to release her. Instead, Will wrapped his fingers around her right wrist and held it so Jem could see the back of her hand. Chinese eyes widened minutely and then narrowed as he considered what to do. "You must be at least half Nephilim, Miss Ó Bradagáin. There is no other way for you to be able to wear that Mark." Jem's tone was gentle as he said this. He stepped closer again and offered her his arm, along with a smile. "If you would like to learn about the power of your blood, you are welcome to come to the Institute as our guest."

Jinx stared up at him. She only dimly heard Will say, "She doesn't have a choice, James." Her attention was solely on Jem. No one had ever smiled at her the way he was. It reached all the way up into his eyes, those captivating silver eyes. _Does he truly want to help me?_ The single thought ran through her mind as she pondered his offer. She hesitated for another moment, wondering if they were telling the truth, before curiosity got the best of her. Jinx would go with this Jem to whatever the Institute was, but she would not promise him anything about staying there.

She accepted Jem's arm and rather timidly returned his smile. "Thank you, Mr. Carstairs."

His smile widened into a grin. "You're most welcome. And please, call me Jem."

Jinx's smile grew in turn. "Only if you call me Jinx."

"As you wish." His gaze lingered on her after hearing her nickname again, curiosity sparkling in his eyes, but it only lasted for a moment. He gently turned her to the right direction and started walking. "Come along, William. Our guest will want to arrive before dawn."

The walk to the Institute began in silence. Cloud cover grew thick once again, blanketing the sky with charcoal velvet. Light became scarce, coming only from those few flickering gaslights, until they reached a busier street lined with blazing lampposts. Occasionally, mundanes would pass by, pausing to stare at the girl arm-in-arm with nothing but air before continuing on their way. Her attire was undoubtedly part of what made them stare; on top of that, she hadn't bothered to stuff her thick curls back up inside the sailor's cap. It was a very uncomfortable method of keeping her hair contained.

"Jinx, is it then?" Herondale broke the silence. He had fallen into step on her left side, the one Jem wasn't occupying.

She glanced up at him and nodded, but he didn't seem to be waiting for her affirmation.

"Are you as hopeless as a mundane or do you actually know something about the Shadow World?" he sounded almost hopeful that she didn't know anything. Probably so he could have the chance to teach her the vast knowledge he had accumulated in sixteen years.

Well, she wasn't going to let that happen.

"I know a lot more than the average mundane," the boys exchanged a look over her head at that term, "but I'm definitely not going to claim to be an expert."

"Well?" William said expectantly after a brief pause. "What do you know?"

She hesitated, forming her answer carefully. There was no reason to tell them about her past; she didn't trust them enough for that. If she stayed cautious she could explain what she knew without raising too many questions. "I've spent most of my time around mundanes. I only became acquainted with Downworlders when they approached me. I've always been able to see them, of course, but I never approached them. Demons I tried to stay away from as much as possible."

Jem frowned. "The Downworlders never told you anything about your Nephilim blood?"

Jinx shook her head. "No, they never did. Every once in a while someone would say something about my family not allowing me to mingle with Downworlders. It always confused me but they never gave me time to ask for an explanation before they left."

"You were never brave enough to ask them what they thought you were?" Will scoffed. "Well, I guess that's to be expected of an orphan."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jinx saw Jem send Will another silencing look. His attention then focused on her. "That must have been terribly lonesome." The tone of his smooth voice was achingly gentle.

That caring tone took her by surprise and words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. "It was, very much so. I've hoped, ever since my father died, to find some group of people I belonged to. I knew I wasn't a mundane because I was faster and stronger than all the mundane girls my age; werewolves and vampires definitely were not an option and faeries and warlocks didn't offer much more hope. There was something pulling me to their world, but I had to resist it. I didn't fit anywhere, and for a reason I couldn't explain even if my life depended on it, that hurt."

Jinx snapped her mouth shut. Why did she tell him all that? He didn't need to know; he hadn't even asked her a question. There was something about this James Carstairs…

"How old are you?" William asked, derailing her train of thought.

"Sixteen."

There was a moment of silence among the trio. Jinx glanced up at each boy, took in the identical expressions of blatant disbelief etched across their faces, and couldn't help laughing at them. She knew she didn't look sixteen, so she wasn't offended. Quite the contrary, actually; she was accustomed to reactions like theirs.

What she wasn't accustomed to was the way Jem listened to her. He seemed quite content to let William ask the prying questions; a little voice in the back of Jinx's mind told her that Jem would not have asked those questions if they were walking by themselves. But since William walked with them and had no qualms with being an interrogator, he listened to her responses; in a friendly way, though, he wasn't the slightest bit judgmental. He had nodded with understanding as she spoke of the loneliness and he did not make her feel guilty about not searching for answers about her ancestry. That was new to her, and she didn't know what to make of it. The hardest part for her to understand was why he seemed to care so much.

Jinx vaguely heard Herondale saying something and tried to focus on his voice, pulling herself out of the confusing thoughts circling her mind, just in time to catch the end of whatever he was talking about.

"…I have it! Did a sprite ever bite you?"

_What?_ Tilting her head back to look at him, she said, "Pardon me?"

Will grinned, instantly making her wary. "Sprites can be vindictive creatures; they must have a charm within their saliva that makes humans smaller than they should be. That's how they get even for their tiny size. Would you mind letting one bite you again so we can see if you shrink more?"

Utterly confused, all Jinx could do was look to Jem for clarification. He shook his head, silently telling her she didn't want to know. She shrugged. It must not have been important.

They walked in silence for a while after Will's strange topic. Jinx was thankful for an end to the questions; the silence also gave her a chance to study the self-declared Shadowhunters. The boys made a good pair, she decided. Will's black hair and blue eyes contrasted sharply with the varying shades of silver in Jem's features. They were both slender and they both moved with the same easy grace that comes from years of training and fighting, but Jem had an almost fragile quality to him. _Not that he's weak_, she amended her thoughts quickly. She had felt his strength firsthand and knew he would be a formidable foe to any opponent.

They now stood outside the iron gates in front of the Institute, exactly where Jinx had stopped walking to swear at the consecrated structure. Jem unlocked them, walked through with Jinx and Will brought up the rear as they mounted the steps to the doors of the Institute. A clang of metal reached Jinx's ears, and she turned her head to glance back at the gates. Not believing what her eyes told her, she quickly spun her entire body around as the gates seemingly shut themselves.

Jem chuckled as he stopped beside her. "Look closer."

Jinx glanced at Jem and shifted half a foot width away from him, and then switched her gaze back to the gates to find a rather large young man locking them. She decided shadows must have obscured him the first time she looked. Turning back to the doors, she saw Will standing in front of them.

"Open the doors," he commanded.

Jinx sent him an exasperated glare. "I don't have a key, Master Herondale."

Jem leaned down to mutter in her ear, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. "Don't call him that. You'll only further inflate his ego."

She smiled, trying not to laugh outright, as she said, "that's one thing he definitely don't need."

"Doesn't."

She rolled her eyes. "So how am I supposed to open the door if I don't have a key?"

"It's very simple. All you have to do is say this: 'In the name of the Clave, I request entry to this holy place. And in the name of the Angel Raziel, I ask blessings upon my mission against the darkness.' If you truly are a Shadowhunter, the doors will open."

Jinx stared at him again. It seemed to be becoming a habit. Not one she minded, though. Back home in New Orleans, girls would have called Jem 'something delicious to look at_.'_ She mentally gave herself a shake. "Do you really want me to talk to a door to make it open?" At his affirmative nod, she shrugged and climbed the final steps to stand in front of the doors. Putting her hand on the knob, she quietly repeated what Jem had told her to say. The doors swung open before she even finished.

There was a moment of silence. Jinx tilted her head to the side, taking in the rather small foyer. Narrow stairs twisted upwards on one side and several doors, all closed, led to what she assumed would be a labyrinth of hallways. She noticed Jem watching her out of the corner of her eye and turned her head just enough to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow slightly, as if to say _Disappointed?_ Jinx's lips twisted up at the corners into an embarrassed smile. "I was expecting something a little more spacious," she confessed.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. Most of it is more spacious than this." He pointed toward one of the doors. "The hallway beyond that door leads to the sanctuary. It, along with the path to it, is not consecrated. We use it for meetings with vampires. Unconsecrated areas are kept to a minimum, thus the small space." Jem turned at the sound of footsteps behind them.

Jinx twisted her head around to see the boy who had shut the gates now stood behind them.

"Thomas, this is Miss Ríona Necwactāt Ó Bradagáin." Jinx was officially impressed with this James Carstairs. Very few people remembered her full name, let alone pronounced it correctly. "She will be staying with us for an unknown period of time. Would you go find Sophie to show our guest to a room?"

Thomas's brown eyes flicked over to Jinx. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss…I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

She tipped her head back and smiled tentatively up at him. Size usually didn't intimidate her, but this guy was massive. "Call me Jinx. Pleased to meet you, Thomas."

He grinned and nodded a greeting, dark curls bouncing around his ears. "Pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Jinx." His attention shifted back to Jem. "I'll go fetch Sophie for you, Master Jem. Should I tell her to draw up a bath?"

"Oh, yes please!" Jinx exclaimed, her smile now friendly.

Thomas chuckled. "Very well, Miss, I shall pass it along."

Jinx watched as Thomas disappeared up the staircase and then turned to Jem. "Why does he talk like that?"

Inquisitive silver eyes returned her gaze. "Like what?"

"He sounds like he's trying too hard to sound just right. He didn't grow up with that particular accent, did he?"

"No, he did not." This came from Will, who had walked up to the staircase and did not appear to be willing to wait for them. He did pause on the second step to focus on Jinx for a moment. "Since you have made this night such an exhausting one, I am going to bed. Good night, James."

Jem hardly spared him a glance. "Good night, Will." He offered his arm to Jinx again, which she accepted, and steered her toward the stairs. "You're right about Thomas. Charlotte insists we all speak 'proper' English within the Institute. Thomas's native East End accent has a tendency to come and go, depending mainly on whether or not he remembers to mask it."

"I hope that rule doesn't apply to me," Jinx muttered absentmindedly. She was trying to take in everything she could see and commit it to memory. _A girl can't be too careful. You never know when you'll have to make a quick getaway._

Jinx focused herself on the task so completely she didn't even see what tripped her. Her foot caught on something hard, she tipped toward the floor, braced herself for the impact—and felt herself getting pulled to the side instead. Jem tightened his grip on her arm and spun her around in front of him, wrapping his free arm around her waist to keep them both upright. She had instinctively raised a hand to ward off a possible attack; that hand now rested on his chest. Her entire body went rigid. She prepared to twist away, to fight if he didn't let go, but that little voice in the back of her mind whispered. Jinx forced herself to calm down just enough to listen. _Look at him._ Well, that voice had never steered her wrong before. As she raised her eyes to his, she readied herself to fight if she didn't like what she saw.

Jinx froze in utter shock. The look in Jem's eyes was not what she was expecting. Not even close. He looked…concerned, as if the only reason he held her this close was to make sure she didn't get hurt. And there was something else there that Jinx couldn't quite put her finger on. But still, his eyes weren't at all like—_no!_ She would not let her memory wander back there again.

"Are you all right, Jinx?"

His smooth voice cut through the fog lingering in her mind, bringing her back from a dark New Orleans alley. Her eyes finally focused on his intense gaze once again. "Y-yes, I'm fine." _Why was her voice shaking so badly?_ "Thank you." That was better. She almost sounded like herself again. Jinx stepped back, out of his arms. He let her go, regarding her as though he wanted to ask her something. She glanced around the corridor they stood in and desperately tried to think of something to say to distract him away from her odd reaction to his assistance. "What did I trip on?"

Jem stared at her for another second before accepting her distraction. He gestured back at the stairs. "The top step. It's a bit taller than the rest of them. I've never learned why, though. I think Henry may have built that particular staircase."

A nervous giggle escaped Jinx's throat. "Who's Henry?"

Silver eyes sparkled mischievously. "Henry is the mastermind who engineered this entire structure to—"

"Master Jem?" A female voice called from down the hall.

Jem turned toward the voice, not looking irritated in the slightest that he had been interrupted. "Yes, Sophie, thank you for coming so quickly. This is Miss Ríona Ó Bradagáin. She'll be staying with us for a while."

Jinx studied the young woman who walked up to them while Jem spoke. Sophie's most prominent feature by far was the scar from the left corner of her mouth to her temple, but Jinx dismissed that and focused on the girl's eyes. Scars did not tell you anything about a person other than they've had a hard past; eyes, on the other hand, truly were windows to the soul. They could tell you everything you needed to know about a person, and Sophie's eyes told Jinx she was the type to treat people as they treated her. Jinx decided then and there that Sophie would be a good friend if she ever needed one. She smiled. "Call me Jinx, please. No need to get all tongue-tied over my name."

Sophie's dark hazel eyes widened a touch before she dipped into a small curtsy. "Thank you, Miss Jinx." Relief was so evident in her voice that Jinx couldn't help but grin. "I will show Miss Jinx to her room, Master Jem." She bobbed another curtsy in Jem's direction before turning and walking back the way she came.

Jinx glanced at Jem, trying not to laugh. "I guess I'm supposed to be smart enough follow. Good night, Jem, and…thank you."

Jem smiled at her. "It was all my pleasure. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well, and enjoy your bath."

Jinx quickly moved down the hall to catch up to Sophie but had only taken a couple steps before she registered the hopeful tone in that last bit of Jem's farewell. Not breaking her stride, she twisted around slightly to send him a mock glare. It died on her face when she saw the look on his. Jem was smiling at her again in that strange way of his that made her feel so…warm. She knew she had seen that look somewhere before, never directed at her, but she had seen it nonetheless. She just wished she could remember what it was.

The rest of the night flashed by in a blur. Jinx would later vaguely remember following Sophie through hallways and past too many doors to count before eventually stopping in front of one. She didn't remember much of the bath, other than the warmth and being grateful for finally getting rid of the grime. The only thing she remembered clearly after leaving Jem standing in the hallway was utter bliss that came when she lay down on a bed. _A real bed._ Her eyes slid shut and she instantly fell into a deep slumber.

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><p><strong>Please review! I honestly didn't think the first chapter was all that great until I read the wonderful reviews, so please keep it up!<strong>


	3. Discoveries & Doubt

**Author's note:** This chapter should clear up some questions about Jinx's background. Not all of it, though, because that would completely spoil the ending! Please review it, even if you think it sucks! Oh, and just to let you know, I'll be updating once a week to ensure consistent quality. I know it's not up to Cassandra Clare's quality but I still want to keep it consistent.

**Disclaimer:** Infernal Devices belongs to the lovely and talented Cassandra Clare, all I own is my imagination and my character.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Discoveries &amp; Doubt<strong>

As far as appearances were concerned, it was a normal breakfast in the Institute. Bits of sunlight came in through the windows when it found a weak spot in London's constant cloud cover, illuminating the tastefully decorated dining room. Five people sat at a table that could have seated twenty comfortably; they enjoyed delectable portions of bacon, eggs, toast, and porridge. Serving plates held fresh butter and jams. Kettles of hot tea and pitchers of water stood readily available to quench thirsty throats. Jem sat facing the door, next to Will, who was directly across from Charlotte Branwell. Her husband, Henry, sat at the head of the table and the final person in attendance was Jessamine Lovelace. She sat next to Charlotte, directly across the table from Jem, picking daintily at her food. But that was where all normalcies ended. The meal was a very quiet one and rather tense. Conversation, little and infrequent, centered around requests to pass dishes.

Jem knew precisely why everyone, surprisingly enough including William, kept so silent this morning. He saw all the stolen glances toward the dining room's arched doorway; those looks revealed not so carefully hidden worry and curiosity.

The Shadowhunters' guest had yet to make an appearance.

It had been one day and one night since the petite stranger had accompanied Jem and Will to the Institute and she simply refused to wake up. Yesterday morning, when Jem had first informed Charlotte and Henry about their unexpected guest, her slumber had been understandable. Charlotte took her presence in stride, saying she would talk to the girl when she awoke. But Miss Ó Bradagáin hadn't so much as stirred all day. Charlotte began to worry as the day wore on with no change; after dinner, she ordered Sophie and Agatha, the cook, to take watches in the girl's room during the night. They were to alert Charlotte the instant their guest woke.

Unfortunately for Charlotte's nerves, the night was as uneventful as the day. She checked on the girl about an hour before breakfast, bringing one of her dresses in case Jinx woke up. Charlotte had burned the girl's clothes; they were beyond hope of cleaning. Before Agatha left to prepare breakfast, she reported that the girl slept peacefully throughout the night, occasionally muttering in a language they didn't recognize but otherwise still and silent. Sophie had stayed with the girl and promised to bring her to breakfast if she woke in time.

Jem had spent most of the day in the library. Everyone was curious (including Jessamine, even though she pretended not to be) about how a girl could have Nephilim blood, know about the Shadow World, and not know much about Nephilim themselves. He had volunteered to search through old family records and see what he could find concerning her family. Starting with her last name, which sounded distinctly Irish to him, he attempted to track her genealogy. It was slow and very dusty work; he'd braved opening books that hadn't been opened in years, perhaps decades, containing thousands of family trees. It took him hours, and a bit of luck, to piece together a complete story of her circumstances. Well, as complete as it could be until Jinx woke up.

When he told Charlotte of his findings at dinner, she had listened carefully, her dark eyes sympathetic.

"I thought it would be something like that," Charlotte sighed at the end of his tale. "Poor thing, she must have spent her life running from her heritage and didn't even realize it. But even considering the background she must have, it cannot be healthy to sleep this long. If she doesn't wake tomorrow morning, I'll be forced to call the Silent Brothers."

A sharp _crack_ and a puff of pungent black smoke brought Jem's thoughts back to the breakfast table with a jolt.

"Henry!" three angry voices sounded in perfect unison.

The man in question looked quite shocked himself. His eyes were wide, ginger hair nearly standing on end. He looked down at a small rectangular object in his hand, muttering: "What a shame. I thought it was finally working properly."

Jem saw Will and Jessamine open their mouths to answer, and then all three young Shadowhunters caught the silencing look Charlotte sent them. They all knew that look only too well. _"Keep your mouths shut or I'll make you update our records for the next year."_

Out loud, Charlotte asked, "Could you perhaps give us a warning next time, dear?" She still sounded stunned to Jem's ears.

Henry looked up at her, an apology written all over his face. "I'm terribly sorry if I ruined anyone's breakfast. It wasn't meant to explode."

Jem choked back his laughter. "What exactly is 'it', Henry?"

Henry's face brightened immediately. "It's going to be a device that measures demon energy levels. I know it will be something all Shadowhunters will use one day. I think I'll call it a…well, I haven't thought of a name yet, but it will work. Mark my words!"

Jem couldn't help but smile at the man's enthusiasm. He also couldn't help but be a bit skeptical. A device like that would certainly be useful, but very few of Henry inventions ever work like they were supposed to. He glanced at Will, wondering why the outspoken boy hadn't voiced an opinion concerning Henry's gadgets yet, only to find him mesmerized by something across the room. Jem followed his gaze toward the door, curious about what it was that could hold Will's attention and tie his tongue at the same time.

At first, Jem's view of the doorway was hazy due to the smoke that still lingered, but it quickly cleared, offering him the unobstructed sight of two young women standing under the arched doorway. Sophie caught his eye, dipped into a quick curtsy, and disappeared back down the hall, leaving their guest standing by herself. He watched Jinx as she took in the room: the immense gasolier over the table, the mirror running the length of the room on the opposite wall, and finally the table and its occupants. She look…overwhelmed, Jem decided. He stood and waved her over with what he hoped was a welcoming smile.

"Good morning, Jinx! You must be starving. We have more than enough food to go around, so please, come help yourself."

Jinx smiled the instant she saw him and started moving toward the table. He tried to study her surreptitiously as she moved toward him, taking in the midnight blue dress that was three inches too short on the skirt and at least an inch too short on the sleeves, but otherwise seemed to be a decent fit. Her shoes, also borrowed from Charlotte, appeared to fit. She wasn't limping, so that was a good sign. Unlike the clothes she had worn the night they met, in this dress he could see that she was in fact at least sixteen years old. He didn't want to give the impression of ogling her inappropriately, but he let his gaze linger long enough to see that her curves were slender yet noticeable.

Jem's eyes finally made it back up to her face and his breath seemed to stick in his throat. Her cheeks, smeared with soot the last time he saw her, had a dark rosy hue and her hazel eyes were simply _glowing_. Her dark brown hair, which he could now tell had an auburn tinge to it, had been pinned up into a bun at the back of her head; as carefully applied as the style appeared to be, a few curls were trying to escape. A couple of them already had, giving her face the perfect frame. The bath and thirty hours of sleep had obviously done her a great deal of good. And Jem had been right when he first recognized her as a young lady that night: she was stunningly beautiful. Some might even call her exotic. But it wasn't just her looks that made her glow like that. There was something else, something deeper than skin and bones. He didn't know what it was, but it made him want to just stop and stare for a while.

"Good morning, Jem." Jinx stood in front of him, a slightly quizzical look on her face, but she was still smiling.

He smiled back and shook himself out of his reverie. While he helped her into the chair next to his, he introduced her to the table's occupants, motioning to each as he said their names. "Jinx, this is Charlotte and Henry Branwell; they run the Institute. The lady next to Charlotte is Jessamine Lovelace, and of course you already know William."

Charlotte gave her a warm smile. "It's a wonderful surprise to have you here, Miss Ó Bradagáin."

"Call me Jinx, please," she interrupted quietly, almost hesitantly. "I don't care much for formalities."

That was most certainly not what Jem expected. Jinx had been so outspoken when they met; what changed?

"Jinx!" Jessamine huffed from across the table. "That's a horrid nickname. Wherever did you get it?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jem saw Jinx stiffen before she leveled a steady gaze, almost a glare, on Jessamine. "Would you prefer Ríona, Necwactāt, or Miss Ó Bradagáin?" Her voice sounded friendly enough on the surface but still sent a chill up Jem's spine. He was glad she hadn't turned that tone on him yet. However cold she sounded at the moment, she was still bold and that fit with what little he knew of her. It seemed to suit her much better than the hesitancy from a moment ago.

"Well," Jessamine started, meeting Jinx's gaze, "Riona is not as bad—"

"It's not Ree-OH-nah. It's REE-uh-na."

Jessamine stared at Jinx, looking rather horrified that the dark-skinned girl had dared to correct her. Jinx stubbornly held the girl's gaze. After a moment of silence, Miss Lovelace managed to give the impression of turning up her nose as she looked back down at her bowl of porridge. "I suppose Jinx will do."

Jem resisted the urge to applaud. He did allow himself to send Jinx a congratulatory grin. Their guest would get along just fine at the Institute.

On his other side, Will snorted with laughter.

"Jessie, I think you've finally met your match. And I don't care where the nickname came from; I think it suits her." Will threw a sideways glance past Jem. "Although I must say, I hope you don't live up to it."

Jinx appeared to be absorbed in the task of spreading jam on a piece of toast. Jem had a suspicion she was deliberately ignoring Will and he was about to commend her for it when Charlotte spoke up again.

"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way," she began with a pointed look at Jessamine, and then faltered. That was strange; Charlotte was usually so blunt when she spoke. Maybe there was something in the air this morning. "Jem told us you said your parents are dead, so I apologize for having to ask this, but what do you know about your mother?"

Jem saw Jinx tense again. She set her nearly finished piece of toast down on her plate. Wait, _nearly finished?_ She had just started on that. He had been correct earlier; she must be absolutely starving.

"Not much. I never knew her." Jinx spoke in a steady, clear voice. Almost too steady.

Charlotte hesitated again. "Would you tell us what you do know?" When Jinx narrowed her eyes, Charlotte hurried through the next bit of what she wanted to say. "I truly hate to ask what must be a painful question, but we think we can tell you something about your parents and the circumstances that lead to their deaths. With your help, we can figure out why you never knew about your Nephilim blood."

Jem watched their petite guest while Charlotte spoke. She bit at her bottom lip and twisted a loose curl around her fingers, appearing to be at war with herself. After an anxious moment, she nodded.

"All right. I'll tell you what I know. But like I said, it isn't much," she warned Charlotte. She paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath; as she released it, she opened her eyes and focused them on Charlotte.

"My father told me everything I know about her. Her name was Aithche. She was born and raised Irish. My father, his name was Konāc, often explained to me how beautiful she was, with her milk-white skin, flaming red hair, and deep green eyes. He said once that except for my dark skin and brown eyes I look just like her. Apparently she was kind, generous, selfless; she always thought about others before herself. They met in New Orleans two years before I was born, about eighteen years ago." Jinx paused here, eyes cast down at the table. Jem saw the quandary in them and briefly wondered if she would continue or not. But she must have made her decision quickly, for as soon as the thought crossed his mind she looked back up at Charlotte and continued. "On my seventh birthday, he told me that there had been some kind of complication with the pregnancy. Ap-apparently," this was the first her voice shook, "it wasn't supposed to kill her, but it was supposed to kill me. He said she should not have died and I shouldn't have lived. That was the same day he put this Mark on my hand." She lifted her right hand, showing everyone at the table her Mark. "While he drew it, he kept repeating the same words. He said I would always be able to see my mother's world, the world I was meant to belong to, but I would never be a part of it."

By the end of her story, Jinx had the appearance of someone who wanted to be able to cry but simply didn't care enough anymore. As she put her hand back down Jem caught a glimpse of something on her wrist. It wasn't another Mark and it didn't look quite right to be the scar left behind from one; he didn't get a good enough look at it to tell what exactly it was before she folded her hands in her lap. Jem glanced at Charlotte, meeting her eyes. He nodded once, silently telling her to fill in the missing pieces for Jinx.

"Well," Charlotte began, "now I know we're on the right track. We know what happened from when your parents met up until you were born. Do you want to hear their story, Jinx? Or will it be too painful for you?"

Jem watched with admiration as the tough girl shook her head. _No, girl isn't the right word,_ he thought. Jinx was like all other Shadowhunters; she had been forced to mature quickly. She was closer to _lady_ status.

"No, I want to hear it."

Charlotte nodded. "Jem is the one who researched it. I'll do my best to keep the facts straight, but feel free to correct me if I get it wrong, Jem.

"As far as I know, everything you just said about your mother is true—oh, please, try to eat while I talk. You must be starving after sleeping for so long. Anyway, your mother wasn't merely Irish; first and foremost, she was born and raised to be a Shadowhunter. We are a…race, I guess one could say, of gifted humans. We are stronger and swifter than mundanes and we are trained to fight from a very early age. It is our duty to kill demons, as well as enforce the Law. Another part of our duty is protecting mundanes from all supernatural harm. The archangel Raziel created the Nephilim race nearly one thousand years ago by mixing his own blood with that of a normal human. He did so within the Mortal Cup; to this day, Shadowhunters can drink from it without any ill consequences, but if a mundane drinks from it, it will either transform them into Nephilim or drive them to insanity.

"All Nephilim are warriors, including women, though we usually have to fight for extensive training. From what we can gather about your mother, she fought to be trained alongside her brothers since she started talking. Oh, yes, you have four uncles and two aunts on your mother's side. Jem can explain just how large of a family the Ó Bradagáins are later. Concerning your mother, it seems she was right to fight for the training; she was highly talented and a most proficient warrior, battling demons regularly by the time she was fourteen years of age. As you said, she met your father in New Orleans eighteen years ago. She was visiting the Institute there on orders to train the man in charge on how to manage it properly. That is a great testament to her skill; she was only twenty years of age at the time. After she met your father, she wrote home to her family, telling them it was love at first sight. They never sent her a reply. She understood what they tried to tell her, so she gave your father a choice. He could stay behind or he could follow her. When she returned to Ireland your father chose to follow and asked her to marry him. Her family did not approve of the match because of your father's mundane blood, but your mother was always a headstrong, independent woman. She refused to accept their judgment of him; he possessed the Sight, and she believed he would be strong enough to survive the transformation. You see, soon after they met she started trying to convince the Clave to allow him to drink from the Mortal Cup. I can see you're confused, Jinx, and I apologize for that; I'll explain what the Clave is later.

"Your mother found herself in a difficult situation. You see, very few mundanes have ever drunk from the Mortal Cup. The greatest chance of a successful transformation is when the mundanes are still young children; even then, there is an extremely high risk of insanity and death. Since we are sworn to protect mundanes, we almost never use the Cup to create more Shadowhunters. It only happens when our numbers are severely dwindled. Your mother's case was an unusual one; the Clave's Assembly was split nearly down the middle. After a year of intense debates, they relented to your mother's persuasion. Your father drank from the Mortal Cup and, surprisingly enough, it was a success. If the Clave had refused, however, your mother would have been forced to choose between her life as one of the Nephilim and her love for your father.

"No, dear girl, that is not irrelevant. All Nephilim have the choice to leave this life, but if they choose that path, they must cut off all ties to the Shadow World. Family, friends, possessions, _everything and everyone_ must stay behind. Of course, if they ever have children, the Clave has a right to them. The children are regularly presented with a choice: the life of a mundane or that of a Shadowhunter. If they choose to join the Nephilim, then it is they who must cut off all ties to their old life.

"Regarding your parents, they married directly after the transformation and seemed to have one very happy year together. He moved to Ireland because your mother loved the land. They never did completely convince her family that he was a suitable match for her, though; the Ó Bradagáins are an ancient and very proud family. I daresay they have existed as long as the Nephilim race has. Your father was born and raised in America, correct? Yes, well, that certainly explains why they tried to keep the pregnancy private. Of course, the complication you spoke of probably had something to do with that. I do not know what it was; all I know for a fact is she was able to hold you for a few moments just before she died. Eyewitness reports say she loved you from the instant she saw you. She's the one who gave you the name Ríona; in case you didn't know, it's an old Irish name that means 'queenly'. She made your father promise to take care of their little queen and died with a smile on her face. I think it's safe to assume that your mother did not regret anything, not even dying to bring you into this world."

Charlotte's voice caught. She cleared her throat, eyes shining, and then continued. "After she—if you're that hungry, Jinx, don't be afraid to keep eating. We have plenty of food. After your mother died, her family reported that your father, quite simply, seemed to lose his mind. He loved your mother so much he couldn't bear the loss. Grief completely tore him apart. One day, I think you were six months old, he decided he had had enough; he informed the Ó Bradagáins he would return to New Orleans. He had been a powerful man before the transformation and now that he had the strength of the Nephilim and over a year's worth of training, nobody could stop him from taking you when he left. From this point on, we aren't sure what happened. The Clave has always had ways of tracking the people who choose to leave, but your father somehow managed to evade them. They know he sailed to the States and made his way back to New Orleans but after that they had no idea where he went. The Clave had hoped that you would be as strong of a warrior as your mother, but now it was impossible to even offer you the choice of joining us."

Charlotte took a deep breath and let it out with a _whoosh_. "Oh my, I never talk that much at once. Do you have any questions for us, Jinx?"

Jem only listened to Charlotte's spiel with half an ear. He tried to watch Jinx's reactions without making her feel like he was staring, but quickly realized he needn't have worried about it. Her complete attention was divided: two-thirds of it was on Charlotte, absorbing everything she said, and the final third was focused on food. It was shocking how much that petite girl could eat. Shock aside, absolutely none of her attention was on him, which allowed him to observe her freely.

At first Jem thought she was handling it unnaturally well. She looked like she was listening with a kind of clinical detachment to a story about perfect strangers whose lives didn't affect her in the slightest. But as the story progressed, he started noticing little things that betrayed her careful façade. Her left eye would twitch whenever her father was mentioned; lips turned up into a very small wistful smile as Charlotte described her mother; fingers tightened on utensils when she learned the meaning of her name; eyes shone with unshed tears at her mother's reported last words. From those minute reactions, Jem knew all of this hurt her badly, opening old wounds she had learned to hide and ignore, she was just too stubborn to let the pain show. _No,_ a sudden epiphany struck him, _stubborn is the wrong word._ _She just doesn't trust us enough to let us see her true self._ He wondered what happened to her. That sort of deep mistrust of people in general only came from having someone in whom you have absolute trust repeatedly betray that confidence.

Jem simultaneously felt the urges to just hold her until the pain stopped and rip those who caused it limb from limb.

_What?_ He mentally shook himself, hard. He didn't even know this girl, so how did she draw such strong reactions from him? The night they met, just before he introduced her to Sophie, she had done the same thing. Of course, he had caught her when she tripped purely out of reflex, but something about the way she reacted made him hold her longer than strictly necessary. He had seen the fear, had felt her body tense in preparation to run or fight, and then watched as it melted into shock and confusion when she looked into his eyes. His arms had seemed to have a mind of their own; they simply refused to let her go, even when her mind wandered and she wasn't looking at him anymore. Her eyes were still pointed at him, but he knew she was not seeing him. He had wanted to ask her what happened to cause that kind of reaction, but he knew if she wanted to tell him she would have. So, he let her divert his attention away from her and away from her past. But he couldn't help feeling…he didn't even know what he felt as he had watched her walk away with Sophie, much less what may have shown on his face. All he knew was it had been strong.

The slight _clank_ of utensils being set down on a plate brought Jem's mind back to the present.

Jinx leaned back in her chair and gave a contented sigh; her eyes were closed and a smile curved her lips upward. "Thank you. It's been—well, a while since I've eaten my fill." She opened her eyes and focused her attention on Charlotte. "How do you know all of that is true?"

When Charlotte looked to Jem, Jinx's attention shifted as well.

"Shadowhunters keep excellent records when they feel situations warrant them," Jem answered. "Nephilim don't like it when something happens that they cannot explain; on those rare occasions, the situation is meticulously researched and recorded as an 'Unexplained Event'. The records are then copied multiple times, into several languages, and can be found in almost any Nephilim library. Your father's disappearance is one of those events. The Clave tried their best to figure out how he evaded them so they could prevent it from happening again."

Jinx had her eyes focused on him for the first time since she first entered the dining room. "Is that how you found the story? You started searching through records of unexplained events?"

Jem chuckled. "No, definitely not. I knew nothing about your father's disappearance. All of us were curious about how you could be Nephilim without knowing it and I volunteered to see what I could find out. I started with your last name, but with such a large family it wasn't much help. There are literally hundreds of family trees in our library connected with the name Ó Bradagáin. When I found your mother's name and saw a reference to an Unexplained Event, I almost passed it by. At the time, I thought it was nothing more than a distraction, but after hours of reading family trees I was longing for something different. Unexplained Records can be very interesting, much more so than family trees, so I promised myself I would read it, take a break from the monotony, and then return to my search for you. Everything Charlotte just told you is in the record I found."

Jinx grinned at him. "You got lucky?"

_She has a most infectious smile._ It was the type of grin that lit up her entire face and made her eyes sparkle. Jem could not have prevented his own smile even if he wanted to. "Yes, I got lucky."

The light of joy in her hazel eyes faded abruptly. She chewed on her bottom lip, hesitant to ask whatever question was in her mind. "There was no mention of me on any of the family trees?"

Her voice had become so quiet he almost didn't hear her question. He hoped his sympathy showed through his eyes and his voice as he said, as gently as he could, "no, there was no mention of Aithche having a daughter, nor was there a mention of her husband."

For a single instant, he saw sadness knife through her eyes, the kind of deep sorrow that pierces one's soul, and then her eyes went blank. Her features fixed into an unemotional mask. He knew he hadn't imagined it, but it was hard to believe eyes and a face that could be so veiled could also show that much emotion. Jem once again felt the urge to wrap her up in a hug and hold her until that pain disappeared. He longed to see that smile she had sent him just moments before; he wanted to make her laugh, to chase away the deep sorrow and make her eyes sparkle again.

Jem mentally slapped himself. He needed to start concentrating on the conversation and stop letting her distract him. Those beautiful eyes still focused on him were not helping much. They were a shade of hazel he had never seen before: golden brown and pale green mixed inside a dark, almost black ring around the iris. The midnight blue of her—Charlotte's—dress reflected into them, deepening the mint shades to a rich, vibrant forest green. They were the kind of eyes a person could get lost in. He would certainly be willing to stare into them for hours.

Jinx's voice brought Jem's attention back to the conversation. He silently thanked her for not addressing him; he was too confused at his reaction to her to form a coherent answer at the moment.

"You keep referring to this 'Clave' as a 'they' and then as an 'it'. What is it exactly?"

There was a moment of silence at the table. Jem almost laughed. Shadowhunters had grown up with the Clave; they had never been faced with such a basic question.

"Well," Charlotte finally spoke up, "I guess one could say that the Clave is our government."

Jinx's previously blank eyes lit with comprehension and Jem felt a rush of relief. Her mask was gone. Yes, it would undoubtedly be back, but for now there were moments when it disappeared. That was a good enough place to start for him.

Charlotte started to explain the Clave with a little more detail when a new voice entered the conversation.

"Mrs. Branwell?" Sophie called from the arched doorway. "Benedict and Gabriel Lightwood are here to speak with you about that warlock."

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><p><strong>Please review! One last thing, if you're curious about the color of Jinx's eyes, there's a URL on my profile that should give you an idea of what I pictured when I wrote the description. There's also a URL to the site I used to find Irish names and their meanings.<strong>

**And I just realized that New Orleans doesn't have an Institute. According to the Infernal Devices website, only the following cities have an Institute: New York, Shanghai, St. Petersburg, Paris, Tokyo, and London. But, this is fanfiction, so let's just say there's one in New Orleans to combat all those demons running loose in the swamps ;)  
><strong>


	4. Attractions & Confusion

**Author's note:** It's a great Tuesday, don't you think? The sun's shining, the birds are singing, and chapter four is officially up! Anyway, I know I'm a bit late with this, but I have to send out a huge THANK YOU to all who have reviewed so far. All feedback is loved and very much appreciated. So, please keep it up! It could be a smiley face, a frowny face, or a list of things I did wrong (which I know there is); anything and everything will be appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** I own Jinx and my imagination, so please don't steal that (or at the very least give me a heads up before you do), but all else belongs to Cassandra Clare.

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Attractions &amp; Confusion<strong>

The table's occupants scattered. Muttered excuses—including "I think Thomas needs help sharpening knives" and "I simply must wash my hair"—could be heard as people disappeared, leaving Jem and Jinx alone at the table. Charlotte was halfway across the room when she stopped and turned to Jinx, considerably paler than she had been a minute ago.

"You have my sincerest apologies, Jinx. This meeting was supposed to happen tomorrow. The warlock is a very delicate matter at the moment, so I must talk with Benedict, but I'm sure Jem would be happy to show you around and answer any more questions you may have."

She disappeared down the hallway with Sophie. Jinx stared after them for a moment and then turned to Jem with raised eyebrows.

"Are they that bad?"

He laughed. "They're not exactly pleasant company to keep." He stood and stepped over to her right side, offering a hand down to help her to her feet. She hesitated, eyes wary, before putting her small hand in his larger one; as he pulled her to her feet, Jem took the opportunity to let his fingers 'accidentally' brush against her wrist. He was searching for a particular spot, the one he noticed earlier when she showed the table her Mark. There was something there…slightly raised, a little rough—Jinx's fingers tensed in his.

They were almost to the doorway and he still had hold of her hand. Jem released his grip as if scalded, feeling a blush start to spread across his cheekbones. She gazed up at him, frowning slightly, and he silently cursed his pale skin.

"I'm sorry," Jem said, thankful his voice was still steady. "I didn't realize I still had hold of your hand."

Jinx nodded, apparently satisfied with that explanation. "It's all right. I didn't exactly mind." She snapped her mouth shut, looking slightly horrified with herself.

Jem tried not to laugh at her expression. Her eyes were wide, pointed down away from him, and there was the faintest touch of red on her cheekbones and the tips of her ears. He knew that if her skin wasn't so dark the blush would have been quite a bit more pronounced.

He hadn't wanted to embarrass either one of them, but at least now he knew what she had tried to hide from them: she had a scar on her wrist, and from what he could tell it kept going up her arm. He was a fairly good judge of how the Nephilim body healed itself without _iratzes_; that scar felt like it was about two years old and it had been a deep cut. Most definitely not the type of scar left behind from used Marks.

"If I may, Jinx, I would like to ask you," Jem saw Jinx stiffen out of the corner of his eye, but didn't change his mind about what he was asking, "your middle name and your father's name are…odd." He was rewarded with a smile at the last word. "Where is your father's family from?"

She laughed lightly, a most joyous sound to his ears. "Louisiana."

He glanced at her, saw the sparkle in her eyes as they wandered across the tapestries, and realized she thought he wouldn't believe her. He decided to see if he could surprise her. "So he was an American Indian, then?"

They were in the hallway now, walking side by side. It was midmorning, but the hallway received very little sunlight; if it wasn't for the torches lining the walls, they would have been walking in near complete darkness. As it was, the torches flickered and flared as they passed, sending dancing light and twisted shadows scampering across their faces and the thick tapestries, creating an air of mystery that twined around the two young people.

Jem had become accustomed to this effect long ago. He watched Jinx carefully, waiting to see if it bothered her or not, but she hardly seemed to notice. If she did notice it didn't cause the uneasiness he had first experienced.

Jinx's eyes focused on him; he knew it was silly of him, but he felt distinctly satisfied to see surprise and, if he wasn't mistaken, she was also a bit impressed with his deduction. "Yes, he was." She turned her eyes back to the tapestries hanging on the walls. "He hailed from the Icāk tribe."

A torch flared as she walked past it, lighting her face with golden light, and he saw her face harden as it always did when her father was mentioned. He diverted the subject slightly away from him, hoping the look would leave.

"I'm afraid I haven't heard of that tribe. What type of people are they?" Relief washed over Jem as Jinx's face relaxed into a smile.

"If you do know anything of them, it would be under the name 'Atakapa'. That word is actually from the Choctaw tribe. It's the slur they use to refer to all tribes that live west of their lands. Icāk is what the Atakapas call themselves; it means 'the people'. They've been a small tribe ever since an epidemic nearly destroyed them in the last century. They're a peaceful folk, but the men aren't afraid to go to war to protect their families. Traditionally, the men hunt, protect, and provide for their families; women raise the children, cook, gather plants, and make clothing. Storytelling is one of the few areas that both genders take part in. Oh, I wish you could understand the legends I could tell you!" She paused, eyes and thoughts far away from the dark corridor. Jem saw the pure joy light up her face as she remembered the legends she spoke of and wished he could understand them. Jinx shook her head slightly and then continued. "Anyway, they're a bit of a nomadic tribe, following the food to survive, but they usually stay within their traditional homelands. Southwestern Louisiana, that is. My father did not live in their homeland; he lived farther east, closer to New Orleans. I'm not positive which tribes inhabited that area before the French moved in. You asked about my name; it's the Atakapa word for 'brown'. I guess _n__ecwactāt_ is all he saw when he looked at me. Instead of his red skin and black hair, he saw brown hair, brown skin, and brown eyes."

Jem watched Jinx as she spoke of her father's people. She was absolutely fascinating. This was the first time she let her guard down since they met; everything she felt showed on her face. Her eyes, especially, reflected her thoughts and feelings, lighting up when she spoke of Icāk customs, darkening when she told him the meaning of her name. And that little twitch of her lip when she said "French" conveyed quite clearly she held no love for those people. He was definitely curious about what happened to cause that opinion.

But as transparent as she was for those brief moments, as soon as she mentioned her father that cold mask slipped back into place, though not as completely this time. He was starting to wonder what type of man Konāc had turned into after Aithche died. How could one possibly see only brown when looking at Jinx? She had that vibrant green in her eyes, her skin did have a red tinge to it, and in the dining room, in the bits of sunlight that filtered through London's constant cloud cover, her hair looked more auburn streaked with black than brown.

There was something else she said that struck him as strange.

"Why do you say 'they'?" Jem asked quietly after they briefly walked in silence. "The Icāk are your people as well as your father's, are they not?"

For a single instant, emotions flashed across Jinx's face too fast for him to name them all, and then her blank mask settled back into place. "No, not really. I've never met any Icāk other than my father. Everything I know about them I learned from him."

Jem's heart sank as he listened to her response. Her voice, which had moments before been vibrant, rich with emotion and full of life, was flat. He didn't want to make it worse and scare her away, but curiosity got the better of him. "They are your blood, whether you knew them or not. Surely there were people of other races who referred to you as Ica—"

"No, there weren't." Her voice had changed from flat to icy, and he worried he had pushed her too far. "I didn't know many people until I was eight and the few I had met ignored me." Jinx paused, fighting the impulse, before words continued to spill out of her mouth. "When they did acknowledge me, they called me 'half-breed'. I don't have a race, Jem. That's why the Icāk are a 'they' and that's why everyone else is a 'they' too." She glanced at him, briefly, for the first time since she brought up her father again. Her gaze was narrow, analytical even, as if she was trying to confirm something. Confirmation must have come, for she shifted her gaze back to the corridor. "You must know what I'm talking about."

Shock settled over him once again. This girl seemed to have a talent for inducing the feeling._ She noticed?_ Of course he had his mother's Chinese eyes, but with his coloring in its current state people generally found it hard to pinpoint his racial ancestry. "Yes," he said when he found his voice again, "I am half Chinese, so I know the feeling you speak of better than most. But that only applies to mundane societies. We do have a race, Jinx. We're Nephilim."

She stopped walking abruptly and turned to face him. The mask was slipping, obviously against her will; he could see hints of exasperation, confusion, anger…and fear. _She's afraid of the unknown. She must not be used to that feeling and that is what's making her mad._

"How am I supposed to accept that?" The shield had slipped away from her voice as well. It was tinged with all the emotions flicking across her face, anger being the most notable. "You people appear out of nowhere and tell me I'm one of you. Why should I believe any of it? Why should I stay? Charlotte said I have a choice. What's stopping me from leaving right now?"

"Absolutely nothing."

Jem met her frightened gaze and they stared at each other for a moment.

He spoke carefully, trying not to scare her away. "You do have the choice to walk away and continue your life as a mundane. None of us will stop you, or even blame you, and I will not try to persuade you to stay." He hesitated, not sure if he should continue. She looked almost desperate to hear something and he had an idea of what it was. But if he was wrong…

_What?_ A small voice whispered in the back of Jem's mind._ You don't even know her. It's not like she's particularly special. You don't have anything to lose, so just let her run away._

That's it! He squashed the little whispers. There was something special about Jinx, and he wanted to find out what it was. Jem wanted to know exactly what it was about this girl that stirred up his emotions like no one ever had before. He couldn't do that if she ran. But running had to be the key!

"If I may," he started, hoping his uncertainty wasn't in his voice, "I would like to ask you one question."

Jinx looked wary, but nodded.

Jem took a deep breath, silently praying to a God he wasn't even sure was listening. _Please let this be what she needs to hear._ "How did you feel that night?"

She blinked, and then frowned. "What?"

Well, at least he caught her off guard.

"How did you feel when you ran away from the Hydra?"

Hazel eyes lit with comprehension before rolling to the side as she searched her memory. "Well," as before, she hesitated, trying to keep her control, before everything spilled out. "It felt wrong, as if I were betraying a part of myself." There was a tinge of defeat in her voice, making Jem wonder how long she had kept those feelings locked away, hidden from the world.

"It's felt like that a long time. I never knew what else to do when I encountered a demon. I've always ran away and every time I did I had that feeling of betrayal. There was some part of me that screamed at me, that told me to stand and fight. At first, it was easy to ignore, but it's gotten more insistent." Her gaze had been focused on the tapestry hanging behind him, but now she met his eyes. "That's why I'm in London. I was trying to run away from that feeling; I know, it sounds ridiculous, but I thought a change of scenery might distract me from it for a while. Obviously, that didn't work. When I ran from the Hydra it was the strongest it's ever been. That's why I stopped to watch you and Will. I knew you had to be the Nephilim I'd heard about and I was curious. This might sound strange, but when you chased me down I was more scared of you than I had been of the Hydra, or any other demon for that matter." Her voice had trailed off at that last bit; she probably hadn't meant for him to hear it.

Jem made sure to keep his voice soft and gentle. Keeping his excitement from showing would be hard, though. _I may convince her to stay yet!_ "Your blood was trying to tell you what you are, what you were born to do. There is an instinct imbedded deep within every Nephilim that tells us to fight demons, to kill them. You have had that instinct fighting to be heard for years. It is trying to tell you that you were born to protect the innocent people of this world from supernatural dangers. If you choose to stay, you won't have to ignore that feeling anymore. But the choice is entirely up to you, Jinx. I won't stop you if you wish to leave."

Once more, silence filled the corridor. Jem waited for her answer with baited breath; he knew it was a long shot and that if she truly wanted to leave there would be no convincing her to stay. But there was always a chance, always hope.

Speaking of which, he daresay he saw a bit of hope spark in Jinx's eyes. She was still staring at him, directly into his eyes, and he could only guess what she was thinking. She opened her mouth to answer, hesitated, took a deep breath—and then her face set. Her features were firm, eyes determined.

Jinx had made her decision. And she gave Jem no clues as to what it may be.

"I'll—"

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" An arrogant voice cut into their privacy.

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><p><strong>Hmmm, who could that possibly be? You'll have to wait until next Tuesday to find out! *cue evil laugh* Ahem, anyway, if you leave a review or send me a PM correctly guessing who it is, I'll send you a little teaser of sorts from later in the story. But you have to be specific and tell me first and last name, and it's members only I'm afraid. There is no way for me to contact you if you don't have an account. Sorry :( The first five (if I even get that many) who guess correctly will receive their teasers in a PM and no one will get the same snippet. And even if you don't have a guess, please review anyway!<strong>

**I really do hate these long author's notes, but one last thing. As far as I can tell, everything Jinx said about the Atakapa/Icak tribe is true. **** There's a URL on my page for where I found the information if you're interested. ****I sincerely apologize if there is any incorrect information in the chapter. If you do find any erroneous info, send me a PM or leave a review and I'll fix it. Thanks!  
><strong>


	5. Battles & Decisions

**Author's note:** Wow! I am pleasantly surprised by all the responses I got for the last chapter. Without further ado, here is Chapter Five. I hope you enjoy! Please keep reviewing!

**Disclaimer:** Cassandra Clare owns all except Jinx and the plot. No copyright infringement intended.

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Battles &amp; Decisions<strong>

Jem and Jinx turned as one to face the voice that interrupted her. She narrowed her eyes, taking in the impeccably dressed young man sauntering toward them.

He was tall, and some would call his angular features handsome, but his arrogance seeped through them, ruining all appeal he may have had for Jinx. His slightly-too-long tousled brown hair gave an impression of carelessness, belied by intelligent green eyes. Those eyes were studying her the same way she was analyzing him; Jinx could tell he had been trained from a young age to quickly assess an opponent's strengths and weaknesses. Well, two could play that game. But first, she would let him dig himself into a hole.

The boy's eyes finally made their way back up to her face and he sent her a sneering smirk before dismissing her and focusing on Jem. "Picking up strays now, are you, Carstairs?"

The quick dismissal irked Jinx. She was tempted to butt into the conversation then and there, but she decided to bide her time. She glanced at Jem to gauge his reaction to the boy's superior tone and watched as his face hardened into a look that she swore could cut steel. Apparently Jem didn't like him any more than she did at the moment.

"Gabriel," Jem said, gesturing to Jinx, "this is Ríona. Ríona, this is Gabriel Lightwood. Before you can ask, Gabriel, she has just as much Nephilim blood as you and I."

Bright, almost poison green eyes focused on her again. She met his gaze without blinking and sent him her best smile, making sure to put a bit of ice in it. "Ríona Necwactāt Ó Bradagáin. So…pleased to make your acquaintance." It was almost true. She was pleased, but only because of the dumbfounded look on his face as he processed her name. Would it be too much to hope that he couldn't pronounce it?

Mr. Arrogant, otherwise known as Gabriel Lightwood, cleared his throat before speaking. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Ó Bradagáin." Drat, he said it right. He even almost kept the sarcasm out of his voice. "You two wouldn't happen to be lurking outside of the library to eavesdrop on my father's meeting with Charlotte, would you?"

This question was undoubtedly addressed to Jem. Jinx saw him glance around, taking in their surroundings, before answering.

"No, Gabriel, I didn't even realize we were this close to the library. They're discussing what to do about that warlock, aren't they?" At Lightwood's nod, he continued. "Then there would be no need to eavesdrop. Charlotte will tell us everything that happened as soon as she's finished." Jem's eyes sparkled, for a single instant, before turning carefully blank. "Besides, William and I have been investigating those rumors with Charlotte. We know just as much about this predicament as she does."

Jinx tried not to snicker or let her amusement show on her face when Lightwood turned up his nose and refocused on her.

"And you? What are you doing here in the Institute?"

She stiffened at his condescending tone. Who was he to question her? She searched for something to say that he would accept without question as something a Nephilim girl would be doing. "I'm here to train with Jem and Will." That sounded good. Her mother had fought demons, so Nephilim women could be warriors, and just like every other type of warrior in existence, they would have to train at some point.

To Jinx's utter horror, Gabriel started laughing. "A girl? Training? You already have Charlotte slowing you down in battles; surely you can't be training another dead weight."

Horror instantly flamed into rage. Words started spilling out of Jinx's mouth before she could stop them. "_Dead weight?_ I will most certainly not be dead weight to anyone! And I doubt Charlotte is either. I've seen the way she moves and I can tell she would be a dangerous opponent to anyone and anything. More dangerous than you, I'll wager! And who are you to say women are useless in fights? Just wait and see, Mr. Lightwood, I'll train with the boys and I'll keep up with them, too! By the time they're done with me, I'll be able to defeat you with my hands tied behind my back!"

She felt Jem's hand on her arm, pulling her away from Gabriel. In the haze of wrath that had settled over her mind, she hadn't even realized she had marched right up and stood toe-to-toe with him. Jinx didn't struggle as Jem guided her down the hallway, back the way they came, and vaguely heard him calling something over his shoulder. She didn't really care what he told Lightwood just as long as it got them away from him.

The nerve of that arrogant bastard! She could hardly believe it. Dead weight, indeed!

A chuckle drifted to her ears from Jem's direction.

"You definitely have Irish blood, don't you?" There was a smile in his quiet voice. "Although I must say I agree with you completely."

Jinx turned her head to look at him. "Pardon?"

Jem grinned at her. "Except you're wrong about one thing. Gabriel Lightwood is quite legitimate."

She felt her jaw drop and slapped a hand to her mouth in dismay. "I said that out loud?" the question squeaked out as a horrified whisper, even to her ears.

Jinx couldn't believe she had done that. Yeah, she'd been known to mumble when she got mad, but she was still within earshot of Lightwood. She usually muttered and sputtered in private. But maybe, if she got lucky, he didn't hear it. A glance back in Gabriel's direction dashed her hopes; he was glaring daggers at her and starting to walk their way.

Then she made the mistake of glancing at Jem. Their eyes met, he was still grinning, and the situation seemed so absurd she simply couldn't help it. A giggle escaped her throat, quickly followed by the few remaining shreds of her control shattering.

Jinx promptly collapsed against the wall in a fit of laughter.

For the second time that morning, she felt Jem wrap his long fingers around her wrist and tug on her arm. She realized his intention immediately and took off running down the corridor with him, away from Gabriel. He took her down the hallway, turned to his right, then his left, then seemed to double back on their path—she soon lost track of how to get back to the library.

They finally stopped running when they were both gasping for air, more out of breath from laughter than the sprint. Jinx leaned against the wall as she tried to get her breathing back under control, a giggle still escaping now and then, accompanied by the occasional chuckle from Jem. He leaned against the opposite wall and shared a grin with her. His eyes were sparkling with mirth and—wait.

His eyes had been clear silver when they met, she vividly remembered that. Now they were more of a stormy gray. Another realization struck her at the same instant, and she abruptly stopped laughing, a little shocked at it.

"Are you all right, Jinx?" Jem's eyes were now more concerned than amused.

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's just…" her voice trailed off as she stared at him. How did his eyes change color like that? She mentally shook herself and tried again, determined to not let him distract her this time. "It's just that I realized I haven't laughed, truly laughed, since…" she paused and shook her head. "Since I don't remember when." Jinx met his gaze and smiled, making sure he knew she meant the next bit. "Thank you, James."

Jem smiled back. "Believe me, it was my pleasure." He hesitated, looking like he wanted to ask her something, but seemed to change his mind. "I should probably warn you. Try not to say 'thank you' quite as often as you do. There are Nephilim who would take advantage of that, similar to the way faeries do."

_Great._ Jinx nodded gratefully. "I didn't even think of that. Tha—I appreciate it."

He grinned at her. "I must say, Jinx, I'm impressed. Not many girls would have the nerve to say what you said to Gabriel's face."

"Telling him I'll be a better fighter or the bastard bit?" She said this with a grin, eliciting another chuckle from him. Then she faltered, a dark thought forming in her head. "You don't mind that I insulted a fellow Nephilim?"

He barked a short laugh. "By the Angel, no. It's about time he heard something like that. Hopefully people he considers inferior will keep standing up to him. It would do his ego some good." Jem paused again, appearing to be trying to make a decision, or warring with his curiosity, depending on how one looked at it. "Are you staying here at the Institute?"

Expecting that question, Jinx was immediately ready with an answer. "Yes, I am. And no, Gabriel is not what convinced me. You did." She sent him another little grin. "Although I would hate to make a liar out of myself."

_As if you haven't already._ She ignored the hissing voice, quickly pushing it and the memories it brought to the back of her mind. For the first time in years, she was truly having fun with someone, and she would not allow her past—or that voice—to ruin it. It would happen eventually but it didn't have to be now.

Jem sent her one of his brilliant smiles, the kind that made his eyes sparkle, inadvertently helping her ignore those unwanted memories. It really wasn't fair; whenever he turned that gaze her like that she couldn't help but smile back. To make matters worse (or perhaps better), that look was back on his face. The same look he had when he wished her good night and when he greeted her in the dining room. No one had ever looked at her that way before and she didn't know what to make of it, much less what to think of the way it made her feel.

Oh, that feeling was so confusing! He made her feel safe and protected, warm and welcome; but when he held her hand as they walked across the dining room, his light touch sent tingles up her arm and down her spine. And when he brushed his fingers against her wrist, those sensitive nerves so close to the surface had _sparked_, changing the tingles into liquid fire. She still couldn't believe she actually told him she didn't mind him holding onto her hand that long. All she could do now was hope her dark skin hid the blush.

"—I'm half Chinese?"

Jinx blinked and shook her head, forcing herself to pay attention. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

He tipped his head to the side, one side of his mouth pulling up into a crooked smile. "I said, how did you know I'm half Chinese?"

"Oh." Jinx paused, trying to think of how to frame her answer so it wouldn't lead to more questions. As she thought, she let her eyes wander over his face, taking in little details and committing them to memory. She didn't realize she was staring until he raised a single eyebrow, silently telling her she had, once again, let him distract her from forming an answer. Shaking her head quickly usually helped clear it, and she said the first thing that came to mind. "I spent a lot of time in New Orleans Chinatown, so I know Chinese features when I see them." _Well, this is just great. Now he's going to ask what kind of a father allows a girl to go into Chinatown._

Jem paused, apparently waiting for more information, then simply nodded and let it drop.

To say the least, it stunned Jinx. He was curious, but still willing to let her keep her secrets; at the same time, she felt that if she ever wanted to tell him, he would be a good listener. That didn't make any sense. He was a male human being; he should not be…Jinx couldn't think of any way to describe him. Jem was just Jem. And Jem seemed to be kind, gentle, understanding; everything a male human being wasn't.

Silence settled over them. She was sorely tempted to ask why his eyes changed color, but since he allowed her secrets, the least she could do was return the favor. Besides, he was still staring at her with that strange look on his face. It made her head spin and her skin started tingling again, making it incredibly difficult to form a coherent thought. Jinx glanced around at their surroundings, searching for something to distract herself so she could regain control of her thoughts.

"Where are we?"

Jem's gaze lingered on her for a few more moments before he answered. "This particular hallway leads to the ballroom."

_He's still staring. Why does that make me so nervous?_ She cleared her throat and hoped her nerves didn't show in her voice, but felt like she failed miserably. "What do Shadowhunters need a ballroom for?"

After what seemed like an eternity, but only could have been a couple seconds, he finally looked away from her, down the hallway in the direction she assumed the ballroom was. "We hold an annual Christmas party for the Enclave." When she gave him a blank look, he explained further: "_Enclave_ is the term we use to refer to all Nephilim living in London. In America the term is Conclave."

Jinx forced herself to focus down the corridor, away from Jem, and it definitely helped her rearrange her thoughts. Now that she was thinking clearly again, she could start putting the pieces together. _It makes perfect sense now._ "When you were talking to Gabriel, you were discussing a warlock," she started, then stopped, not quite sure how to phrase the question.

Thankfully, Jem took the topic change in stride and knew exactly where she was going with it.

"Yes, there are rumors making their way around the city about a—do you know about the recent Accords?"

Jinx nodded. "I've heard some Downworlders celebrating them and others griping. I won't claim to know everything there is to know about it, but there is enough information floating around to figure out the general idea."

"Good. The rumors concern a rogue warlock attempting to summon Greater Demons. This is in direct violation of the Accords, as well as the Law, making it our duty to investigate those rumors; however, we don't know if they are true, much less whom, or where, the warlock is."

Jinx narrowed her eyes, thinking carefully. If she was right, then the information she had would be invaluable to them. "I don't know much about demon hierarchy, but I assume Greater Demons would be smarter and more powerful than the average demon wandering about."

Jem nodded, looking a bit curious as to where she was going with the conversation. "That's correct. The rumors differ greatly when it comes to the warlock's plans once he, or she, manages to summon the Demon. We do not even know which demon he's trying to summon. Thankfully, Greater Demons are very difficult to summon. The warlock must get the ritual _exactly_ right. That buys us a bit of time to keep investigating. As you can imagine, if these rumors are true this poses an enormous threat to the people of London."

Nodding slowly, Jinx briefly considered if she should tell him everything or not. Jem hadn't given her a reason not to trust him yet, but she hadn't been around him very long either. She allowed herself to wallow in indecision for another few moments before making up her mind. Jem drew emotions out of her that she didn't even know she possessed; he made her smile, he could even make her laugh, and no one had ever made her skin tingle with a single look before. Well, no one had _ever_ made her skin tingle. There had to be a reason why he could do that to her. She wouldn't have the chance to figure it out if she ran away now. Allowing herself to meet Jem's eyes once more, she silently made the decision to trust someone again.

"I think I can help."

To her surprise, he didn't pounce and force the information out of her. He didn't even give her a sharp look. All Jem did was raise an eyebrow and say, "well, we can certainly use all the help we can get."

_At least he's willing to listen._ "The afternoon before ya'll found me, a faery approached me. He didn't tell me his name, but he did offer information about that warlock. I'd heard the rumors, of course, they're coursing through Downworlders like wild fire, but I had no idea why he came to me. He said the warlock is male but didn't give me a name. I'm not sure he knew what it is. He said that ya'll are having such a hard time finding him because he changes location with every attempt at summoning. Apparently the warlock never stays in the same place more than two consecutive nights. And the faery doesn't know which Demon he's trying to summon, but he could tell the warlock doesn't know the ritual for it."

To his credit, Jem did listen without interrupting, although he did look increasingly skeptical. She knew what was coming and decided to clear up the matter before he could ask.

"I know what you're going to say, Jem. I've dealt with faeries before and I know all about their…creative truth-telling. This wasn't it." Jinx could tell she hadn't completely convinced him yet and made sure to keep her tone confident, however hard it became. "He was speaking directly. There was no attempt to hide anything. He told me to take the information he was freely giving, in honor of the Accords, and to do my duty to the people of London. Honestly, I was confused. It didn't make any sense until you and Gabriel started talking about the warlock, then I realized he must have recognized my Nephilim blood and automatically assumed I knew what I was—am."

Jem looked nearly convinced now, but a bit of reluctance seeped into his voice. "Don't take offence to this, Jinx; it sounds like it could have happened exactly like that. But faeries always have some sort of ulterior motive for everything they do. What was his motivation for telling you this?"

"Revenge." Her immediate, matter-of-fact answer seemed to catch his attention. He straightened up away from the wall, eyes thoughtful. "The faery told me that the warlock attempted a ritual that requires the blood of a faery. The first bit of the ritual failed, so the faery's life was temporarily spared. He told me he escaped before the warlock could try again. And he phrased it exactly like that; he said he _escaped_. Since they can't lie, I'm inclined to believe him. He didn't come right out and say he wanted the Nephilim to exact revenge for him but that has to be the reason he came to me."

Jem nodded slowly, apparently lost in thought. "That's certainly logical." He smiled again, a chuckle accompanying his voice. "As logical as faery behavior gets, at least." The brief mirth vanished and he adopted a professional air. "Did he say where to look for the warlock?"

Jinx shook her head and hoped her regret showed. "That was the only part he chose to be creative about. All he said was 'look for your quarry in a labyrinth.' I didn't ask for clarification."

"Labyrinth…" his voice tailed off. Then his eyes lit with sudden comprehension and he spun around to walk back the way they came.

"I know where we should look for the warlock."

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><p><strong>Yes, I am leaving you with another cliffhanger. Sorry about that, but if I didn't you wouldn't have near as much of a reason to come back next Tuesday! So, please review!<strong>


	6. Revelations & Horror

**Author's note:** Good Tuesday, everybody! Well, not so much where I am, it's rather rainy and dreary at the moment, so I hope it's a good Tuesday where you are! I am dedicating this chapter to my two regular reviewers, Crimson Solitude of the Moon and ShadowhuntingNephilim123, and I'm sending out a huge THANK YOU to you both. I look forward to your feedback every week and it never fails to bring a smile to my face, no matter how bad my day is. Please keep it up!

**Disclaimer:** Everything Cassandra Clare owns, she owns. No infringement intended. Jinx and plot are both mine.

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><p><em>"Labyrinth…" his voice tailed off. Then his eyes lit with sudden comprehension and he spun around to walk back the way they came. "I know where we should look for him."<em>

**Chapter Six: Revelations & Horror**

Jinx ran to catch up with Jem's long-legged strides. "Where?"

"That street the Hydra found you on is a veritable maze of alleyways and side streets. Will and I had been tracking that Hydra for hours before it found you." Jem glanced at her, his slightly crooked grin back in place for a brief moment. "Don't worry, it wasn't looking for you; it was searching for the warlock that summoned it. We thought it was strange someone would summon a guard dog and then send it on a rampage. But it wasn't on a rampage. The warlock must have abandoned it for some reason when he changed locations. That Hydra was bound to the warlock. It was tracking him, trying to follow its duty to guard its master."

They were walking swiftly, making good time back to the library as Jem thought out loud. Jinx stayed a step behind him, following his lead whenever they came to an intersection of identical corridors. She watched his profile as he spoke; she took in the tension around his eyes, the faint stress lines on his forehead, the downward turn to his mouth.

_He's beating himself up over this._ Jinx wanted to tell him there was no way he could have known any of that, but something about the set of his jaw told her to keep her mouth shut and let him keep talking.

Jem's voice turned tight with anger; it was slight, easy to miss, but still there, and clearly directed at nothing other than himself. "The warlock is gone by now. We missed our chance to catch him quickly, but we may still find clues as to where he went next." His voice dropped to a murmur, making Jinx wonder if he remembered she was still there. "Why didn't I realize? Hydras have been known to track their masters. It's the only explanation for that behavior."

As his voice trailed off into whispers too quiet for her to understand, he quickened his pace, stretching out his long legs and forcing Jinx into a jog to keep up. He must have finally remembered her presence, for he slowed his pace and sent her a guilty look.

"My apologies, Jinx," he said. "I'm more accustomed to having Will around."

She opened her mouth to answer, to say it was all right, when a door a little ways down the hallway opened and caught her attention. Gabriel, leaning against the wall and obviously still fuming, was the only clue to tell Jinx they were back to the library. And she still had no idea how to get to the ballroom from there.

A tall gray-haired man stepped into the corridor and nodded to Gabriel, who straightened and stepped away from the wall. Charlotte moved through the doorway after him, shutting it behind her, and turned to the two Lightwoods to finish discussing something with them. At least, Jinx assumed they were both Lightwoods. Gabriel and the older gentleman were obviously related; they had the same sort of sharpness to their features. Jinx wasn't sure if it was the actual bone structure of their faces or their attitudes that lent them that sharp appearance. But even with that important similarity, they were not exact copies of each other. Gabriel's father—she thought she remembered his name was Benedict—had thinner features.

That was as far as her observance got.

"Charlotte!" Jem called down the hall. "Jinx has information about the warlock you need to hear."

The trio turned toward Jem's voice, all wearing identical expressions of mild surprise, until Gabriel and his father adopted matching sneers. She could almost feel their gazes raking against her.

_Definitely both Lightwoods._

Gabriel was the first to speak up. "Come back to call me a bastard to my face, have you?"

Jinx squared her shoulders but kept her mouth shut. He would _not_ get under her skin this time.

Benedict glanced at his son in surprise and then turned a harsh gaze on Jinx. "You called my son a bastard?" His tone reflected his look.

She looked him in the eye. "I have a tendency to mumble when I'm angry, sir. I didn't realize I said it aloud until it was too late."

Mr. Sharp, a.k.a. Benedict Lightwood, opened his mouth, probably to rebuke her, but Charlotte interrupted.

"Benedict, I think we should listen to what she has to say about the warlock."

He glanced at Charlotte, looking at her down his nose, before he nodded and turned his gaze back on Jinx. "You are Miss Jinx, I presume?" Mr. Lightwood adopted the same superior tone his son used so easily.

She nodded, keeping eye contact. It seemed to irk him. "Ríona Ó Bradagáin."

Benedict lifted his brows and his body language changed immediately. The Ó Bradagáins must be a powerful family in this small section of the world; at least, that was the only explanation Jinx could think of for the sudden attempt at politeness. As polite as he could be considering what she called Gabriel, of course.

"Miss Ó Bradagáin, what do you have to tell us about this troublesome warlock?" Even his tone became more courteous, though still chillingly cold.

Jinx repeated everything she told Jem, including the part about the Hydra chasing her while it attempted to track the warlock but omitted the bit about her confusion regarding the faery. Charlotte seemed to accept her tale without hesitation, but the Lightwoods looked increasingly skeptical as it progressed.

Predictably, Benedict was the first to speak up when she finished.

"Why should we believe you? Do you have any proof of this happening, or of the faery's good will?"

"I don't." She was willing to admit that much. The faery's motivation seemed sketchy at best, but… "Considering faeries cannot tell outright lies, I'm willing to believe his story. The least we can do is investigate it."

Senior Lightwood shared a look with Junior. "That is not the part that concerns me." He sent Jinx a predatory smile, the kind a wolf must get when it has prey cornered and easy to kill. "What concerns me is that a fourteen-year-old Shadowhunter ran from a Hydra demon. You could be spinning a tale merely to, shall we say, balance your gross failure with a success."

Jinx straightened her spine and lifted her chin. _Bad attitudes must run in the family._ "If I did so, I would be diverting your _precious attention_," she hoped that didn't come out too sarcastic, "from real clues to chase down a lie. I would not do that to the people of this city. And I'm sixteen, sir, not fourteen."

Benedict's features melted down into a scowl. "You still seem to be missing the point, girl. A Shadowhunter at your age does not _run_ from demons. We are supposed to kill—"

"Benedict, stop."

Charlotte's voice rang with authority, piercing the fog of anger beginning to cloud Jinx's better judgment. These Lightwoods seemed to have a talent for inducing it.

She focused on the smaller woman, wondering why she interrupted.

"Do you remember the Ó Bradagáin scandal eighteen years ago?" Charlotte directed the question at the older Lightwood.

Jinx was astounded; Charlotte's voice, posture, everything about her commanded attention and respect. She hadn't looked anything like that during breakfast. Now it was easy to imagine her running the Institute, even if Jinx still didn't know the purpose of it.

Benedict nodded warily, silently prompting Charlotte to continue.

"This is Aithche's daughter."

_What?_ Charlotte was trying to help her. That realization struck her harder than any physical blow ever could. A haze of shock settled over her mind as Jinx tried to think of what Charlotte's motivation could possibly be, then shook her head and abandoned the effort. She wanted to try to figure it out, but she had spent so much time being confused this morning she simply didn't have the energy for it anymore.

Mr. Lightwood was obviously just as shocked as she was. For different reasons, though. He managed to find his voice again, though he still looked positively thunderstruck. "Are you absolutely sure of this, Charlotte? There is no doubt?"

Charlotte nodded. "I'm sure. Jinx was not raised to be a Shadowhunter. She ran from the Hydra because she did not know to do anything else."

Silence settled over the corridor, as though one of the thick tapestries had wound itself around each individual person and through the air, strangling all sound. Jinx kept her eyes focused on Mr. Lightwood and watched as his face slowly transitioned from shock to pure anger. She had an idea of what was coming and shifted away from Jem, not wanting him to have to catch any of the wrath directed at her.

Furious eyes latched onto Jinx. "Is your father still alive?" he raised his voice, rage showing in every line of his face. "Answer me!"

Jinx shrank back from the sudden onslaught. She hadn't been expecting a violent reaction to show so quickly. "N-no, he's not." Memories flashed across her mind and she could feel the tremors starting in her fingers, where it always started, and knew her voice was shaking as badly as her body would be in a minute. "He's b-been dead for eight y-years."

He took a step closer, looming over her. "Tell me how he evaded the Clave."

She moved away from him and felt her back hit the wall. Blood drained from her face; the shakes were spreading to her arms and her entire body would follow suit in a second or two. The last time someone got her cornered like this it did not end well. "I d-don't know."

"Liar!" He was shouting now. "You will tell me everything you know!"

_You might want to get out of here,_ the voice in the back of her head whispered. _Soon._

Jinx got ready to run. She couldn't find her way out of the Institute, but she could lose him in the innumerable corridors. Forcing herself to ignore the tremors in her legs, she steadied herself for a mad dash.

Thankfully, she didn't have to. Two pairs of hands wrapped around Benedict's arms and pulled him away. Charlotte and Gabriel forced him to the opposite wall and held him there, trying to calm him down.

Jem suddenly appeared beside Jinx and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She gave up trying to force her body to obey and sagged against him, grateful for the support. Vaguely, as if it came from a great distance, she heard Mr. Lightwood shouting something, but she ignored him as she gave in to the tremors. Experience had taught her that letting them overcome her and recede on their own would be much easier than delaying them. Postponement only made it worse.

But she had never had someone hold her while she waited for it to end. Jem had wrapped his other arm around her as well, hugging her close, patiently waiting until she was calm enough to stand under her own strength. It was oddly comforting. She had always thought that being held would make it worse; at least, it had made it worse every other time someone tried to help. There was just something about Jem that made her want to let her guard down.

And that thought scared her more than Benedict Lightwood ever could.

Speaking of whom, Charlotte and Gabriel had managed to calm him down to some extent. His voice was quiet again, though not as quiet as Charlotte's. Jinx couldn't hear what they were talking about, but she did catch her name. She suddenly realized the rather inappropriate position she and Jem were in and looked up at him while she took a step back, away from him and the comfort he exuded.

"Than—" she caught herself just in time and shook her head, berating herself for the near slip. "Sorry. I appreciate it, Jem." Following Charlotte's lead, she kept her voice quiet, almost to a whisper.

He leaned down a little bit, forcing her to meet his intense gaze. "Are you all right?"

Her mouth went dry. How could she possibly lie to someone who didn't even know her and still cared that much? "No, I'm not. But I will be."

Jem smiled, not quite that brilliant one that lit up his face, but a real smile nonetheless. "Good. I'm sorry I didn't intervene sooner." He still had one hand on her arm and gently turned her back toward the others before dropping it. She felt strangely cold with the sudden lack of contact.

"Mr. Lightwood," Jem's tone, which had been so warm and concerned a moment ago, was icy. "There is no need to scare Jinx into telling us what she knows about her father. She has demonstrated that she is willing to explain what little she knows about her parents' circumstances."

Jinx looked over at Benedict to gauge his reaction. The gray-haired Lightwood appeared to have aged a decade in the two minutes that had elapsed since his son pulled him away from her. He looked tired—no, he was past tired. _Exhausted_ would be a better word.

She steeled herself when he opened his mouth again, but he only nodded to Jem, and then he surprised her.

"I realize that now, James," his voice reflected the exhaustion on his face. "And you have my sincerest apologies, Miss Ó Bradagáin. Your mother was…a friend. The news of her death gave me a great shock and I thought I had moved past it. Obviously, the wound of losing a person like her never heals completely." Mr. Lightwood turned his attention back to Charlotte, a question in his eyes.

She nodded. "Henry and I will take William and Jem to search the area for any signs of the warlock's reported activities. And I shall inform the Clave of Jinx's presence."

"Very well." Lightwood's voice had regained a bit of its strength, as well as a bit of its former arrogance. "If that is all, Gabriel and I have other business to attend to. Thank you, Miss Ó Bradagáin, for sharing that vital information with us. We are in your debt."

Both Lightwoods turned without another word and disappeared down the hall.

That was odd. Not their abrupt departure; she had been expecting something like that; there was something about Benedict's explanation for his actions that didn't make sense.

_And besides,_ the quiet voice hissed at her, _he is not the type of man to lose his temper like that over just anything._

Jinx turned to Jem. "Was there anything about Benedict Lightwood in that record you found?"

He nodded, though rather hesitantly. "Yes, there was." After a moment of indecision and a glance at Charlotte, he continued.

"Apparently he was in love with your mother. It was one of the worst kept secrets of the Enclave; everyone except your mother seemed to know about it. From all accounts, she didn't like him at all, and he was already married at the time, so she never reciprocated his feelings. There were rumors of him going into a drunken rage the night he was told of her death. He reportedly swore to kill your father if he ever saw him again."

That explained it. Nobody became that angry at a reminder of a friend's death, even if it was a very good friend. The only source of rage like that would be the loss of an equally powerful love. Especially if it was unrequited love.

Now that that matter was cleared up, Jinx's focus transferred to something Charlotte had said. "Charlotte, you said you would go with Will and Jem to search the labyrinth. May I accompany you?"

Charlotte gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Jinx, but no, you may not. We do not have proper fighting gear for you, your old clothes have been burned, and that dress of mine most definitely does not fit properly. It wouldn't do to go out in public in it."

"What?" the word came out as a shocked whisper. "You burned—"

"Oh, there you are!"

Jinxed turned toward the new voice, fighting the irritation welling up. _What is it with this place and interruptions?_

Jessamine hurried down the hallway toward them; well, as hurried as she would ever allow herself to appear. She waved a hand and smiled at Jinx.

"I have been searching for you since breakfast. We simply must do something about the state of your wardrobe." The blonde girl stopped in front of Jinx, half-turned toward Charlotte. "Surely you agree, Charlotte, that Jinx needs something to wear that actually fits her. I will take her shopping and we will stay out for the midday meal."

Horror flooded Jinx, but she tried to keep it from showing. She _hated_ shopping. Loathed it, in fact. Charlotte looked hesitant to give Jessamine permission, so there was hope that she wouldn't have to go.

"I still have material from the last few dresses Sophie made for me. She can make Jinx three or four dresses from that, and it won't take very long at all to acquire fighting gear that fits her." Charlotte looked to Jinx. "Unless you want to—"

"No, that sounds fine." Jinx shook her head firmly. "I'm sure Sophie will do a wonderful job."

Jessamine quickly dashed Jinx's hopes for an easy escape. "But the Christmas party is less than three months away, and you must have a suitable party dress for that."

Unable to think of an excuse to get out of that, Jinx resorted to sending Charlotte a pleading look. _Please don't make me go!_

But alas, Charlotte nodded. "All right. We don't need Jinx's help right now anyway. You two girls go have fun. I will need to speak with you when you get back, Jinx, about your father. And you should be present when I tell the Clave you're here."

Taking Jinx's arm, Jessamine practically dragged her down the hallway in the direction the Lightwoods had gone, calling over her shoulder, "we'll be back before dinner!"

Jinx turned her head to send Jem one final beseeching look. Her final strands of hope were in vain. The last thing she saw as Jessamine hauled her to her doom was amusement sparkling behind those captivating silver eyes.

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><p><strong>Please review! Just a smiley will work! If you aren't feeling ambitious enough to type one in, just copy and paste mine! Or you can put a frowny face in! I really don't care, I just want to know whether you like it or not! Thanks for reading :)<strong>


	7. Aftermath & Challenges

**Author's note:** Good Tuesday, everyone! It's a short one this week, folks, and I'm sorry about that. This chapter was not originally in the rough outline, but then I decided six and eight needed a buffer. So, it's short, but I think it serves its purpose well. Please review!

**Disclaimer:** Cassandra Clare owns all except my imagination, and I'll thank you to not steal that!**  
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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Aftermath &amp; Challenges<strong>

"Where are they?" Charlotte muttered worriedly.

Everyone else at the dinner table wondered the same thing, albeit in varying degrees. Jessamine and Jinx were late; they hadn't yet returned from their shopping trip and Sophie and Agatha were already serving dinner.

"Perhaps Jessamine became overzealous in her search for the perfect dress and they became hopelessly lost," Will offered, sounding rather cheerful at the thought.

Charlotte turned her sharp eyes on William and without hesitation said, "Then shouldn't I send you out to look for them?"

Jem chuckled at that, but knew it wouldn't faze his _parabatai_ in the slightest bit.

As expected, Will merely grinned. "I only meant they were lost enough to make them momentarily late." His eyes flicked over to the doorway and then he swung a hand toward it, nearly hitting Jem in his apparent enthusiasm. Quite a feat, considering Jem was across the table. "See? They've found their way back already."

Jem snapped his head around toward the door to find that the two girls indeed stood under the arch. They both paused for a moment, Jessamine apparently for effect, but Jinx stopped very briefly, blinking in the sudden bright gaslight before moving over to the table.

Jem stood, smiling at her, and pulled out the chair next to his. "How was your day, Jinx?"

She froze just before she sat down and glared wearily at him. "Long."

Jem felt his eyebrows disappear into his hair. He helped her into the chair and settled back into his own, a bit curious over her answer. Until now, she hadn't been so brusque with him, not even when he pushed for answers about whether or not she believed herself to be a part of the Icāk tribe.

Jessamine had finally made her way to the table. Charlotte sat on Jem's other side tonight and Henry had his customary seat at the head of the table, which left Jessamine to sit by Will. That never went well. They immediately started bickering—Jem wasn't sure who started it this time—and he watched with resignation for a moment.

He decided to ignore them and leaned over to whisper to Jinx. "Was it that bad?"

Jinx heaved a sigh. "You've never been shopping with Jessamine, have you?"

Jem shook his head, trying to hide a smile. "No, I can't say that I have."

"I would advise you to avoid it if at all possible. That girl has an obsession with it." Jinx's voice dripped disgust as she helped herself to the food. "I've never understood how girls can stare at pieces of fabric and patterns for hours on end without getting bored. Oh! And those dressmakers can be so rude."

She turned in her chair to face him, warming to her tale. "We spent hours looking for the right shop, wandering in and out of more than I care to remember, and then once Jessamine found it, she insisted they split us up. She left me alone with this dressmaker—I swear she enjoys torturing patrons—who made me stand in one spot for _hours_ on end while she held fabric swatches up to my skin, under my chin, looking to see what the color did to my eyes, and then she wouldn't even accept my input on what style she would make the damn thing in! That _lady_," the word oozed sarcasm, "insisted on making all decisions herself. She said I 'didn't know what would be best.' And once she finally decided what she was making, she said it wouldn't be ready until a few days before Christmas. Can you believe that? Three months for one dress!"

Jem tried his very best not to laugh in her face. He couldn't help it, really; she was so much fun to watch when she let her guard down like this. Her eyes became so animated, along with the rest of her face. And he was starting to notice she had a tendency to talk with her hands, making discussions in close proximity, such as this one, rather dangerous.

Once he trusted his voice, he figured an apology was probably in order. "I'm sorry I didn't rescue you when I had the chance."

To his surprise, Jinx only shrugged as the frustration faded from her eyes. "It's over and done with now. No use in worrying about it. How was your day?"

This girl never failed to amaze him. Not yet, anyway; he'd only known her for…_by the Angel, has it really only been one day?_ Even so, he hadn't thought she would be the type of person who could vent about something and then let it go just as quickly.

Jem smiled at her. "From the sounds of it, much better than yours. We inspected the maze where your faery said the warlock stayed that night and found signs of very dark magic. He was undoubtedly there. Other members of the Enclave will help us search for clues about his purpose and where he went next. This is the first sign we've found that he actually exists. Hopefully we'll be able to track him down now."

"Pardon me," Will's drawl cut into their conversation, "would you two like the rest of us to leave so you can be alone?"

Jinx and Jem turned in unison to look over at Will and then back to each other. Jem's eyes immediately widened. He hadn't realized they were so close; they were nose-to-nose, almost touching. He felt his face flame bright red the same instant he noticed Jinx's ears turning pink. They both moved away, looking at the table to avoid each other's eyes.

Jem cleared his throat and tried to keep his tone light. "It won't be necessary right now, William, but I may remind you of that offer someday."

Jessamine chose that moment to elbow Will, trying to make him give her more space and successfully distracting him from Jem's burning face.

It also gave Charlotte an opportunity to address Jinx.

"I wondered, Jinx, what are you planning on doing here?"

Jinx swallowed a mouthful of food and frowned slightly. "I assumed you would train me, so I can help with fighting demons or tracking down the warlock or whatever else you do. I don't like the thought of being useless."

Charlotte beamed at her. "Of course. I was merely making sure you knew what to expect." Her attention shifted back to Henry, who was fiddling with something. Jem couldn't quite tell what it was; he just hoped it wouldn't explode. He had a feeling that would not be a good ending to Jinx's day. Or his own, for that matter.

Without warning, a wave of—dare he hope?—_fresh air_ engulfed his senses. Jinx had just leaned over to whisper something to him and he hoped he could concentrate enough to understand it.

_She smells heavenly!_

He knew she had been in London's smoky air all day so he couldn't think of an explanation, not even if Will's life depended on it, but it reminded him of the smell of a rainstorm. Not a London rainstorm, either; it was much too pure for that.

"I thought Charlotte needed to speak with me about my father's disappearance and inform the Clave of my presence." Jinx's voice was so low, he had to lean toward her a bit to hear all she said. Which most definitely did not help his concentration.

Jem glanced at her, a bit surprised at her worried tone, most all thoughts of how she smelled momentarily chased away. "I think she forgot. She was so excited that we finally have solid evidence of the warlock's existence." He hesitated, and then decided not to ask her why she brought that up. There was no need to pry; if she wanted to tell him she would. If she didn't want to, she seemed far too stubborn to be convinced.

Apparently she did want to tell him, for she didn't even pause before continuing. "This probably sounds silly to you, but the Clave kind of scares me. I definitely won't remind her."

Jem stared at her for a moment. Jinx could be so perplexing at times; one second she vented her irritation about a dressmaker and the next she admitted to being scared of something most Shadowhunters had lived with their entire lives. Of course she didn't know much about it, she hadn't grown up with it, but they hadn't made it sound that bad.

_Had they?_

Jinx's gaze flicked down the table briefly before refocusing on Jem. "That's Henry, correct?" she nodded to the man in question.

After a glance revealed Henry's ginger head still bent over his gadget, Jem looked back to Jinx, curiosity sparking once again. "Yes."

Breathtaking hazel eyes narrowed at him. "And what exactly did he engineer this entire structure to do?"

Taken completely by surprise, Jem barked a laugh, loudly enough to attract everyone's attention. But thankfully that didn't last long; Henry had hardly looked up, Charlotte just shook her head and returned to her food, and Jessamine seemed to be in a particularly pestering mood at the moment, so William didn't get the chance to pry.

Once Jem regained control of his breath, he said, "That was rather nasty of me, wasn't it? Henry is an inventor; he creates items that, in theory, should be very useful, but they hardly ever work the way they are meant to. To answer your question: absolutely nothing."

Jinx smiled mischievously. "So I don't have to worry about staircases deliberately tripping me?"

Another chuckle escaped his throat. "No, definitely not."

The smile widened a notch as she focused on her food again. "That's a relief."

Jem frowned. She didn't sound relieved; she sounded…almost disappointed. But that didn't make any sense at all.

Will's voice once again cut into their conversation. "Well, it seems I will be in command of your training, Jinx."

She looked up from her plate and fixed her gaze on Will, eyes slightly wary but still attentive. "What should I expect?"

Blue eyes glinted dangerously and he sent her a wicked grin. "Hell."

"Only if you must spend your entire day in his company," Jem interrupted before William could continue.

Jinx glanced at him and grinned. "That much I knew." Her eyes shifted back to Will, the acceptance of his challenge clear, with her own directed at him. "Bring it on, Herondale."

Jem felt his mouth drop open slightly. He glanced from Will's devilish grin to Jinx's, surprised once again. Then he slowly smiled.

Jinx would fit in just fine at the Institute.

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><p><strong>Thank you to all who have read so far, and please review!<strong>


	8. Growth & Gifts

**Author's note:** Well, according to word count, that last chapter was the shortest so far and this one is the longest. That balances nicely, don't you think? Anyway, I hope everyone had a good week, and without further ado, here is chapter eight. And I just realized I mad a terrible mistake last week. I didn't give you chapter seven, did I? I am so terribly sorry about that :( I guess you get two new chapters this week. Once again, I apologize for that. It's there now, so if I haven't lost all credibility with my faithful readers, you can click back and read it now.

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill. Plot: mine. Jinx: mine. OC 2: mine. William Herondale: Cassie Clare's. James Carstairs: Cassie Clare's. The Infernal Devices: Cassie Clare's. *sniffles* Probably for the best, though.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Growth &amp; Gifts<strong>

_Christmas Eve, 1876_

Jinx gasped for air. Her lungs were on _fire_. Sweat poured down her back and face, soaking the thin shirt she wore under her fighting gear and dripping salt into her eyes. She blinked furiously to get rid of the irritating distraction. Her opponent slowly circled her, searching for an opening, and she turned with him, determined not to give him that opening while still being wary of a sudden attack. The hilt of her sword grew slicker with each passing moment. The weapon was a Spanish saber; Will had explained the various advantages the long, elegantly curved blade offered, but very little of what he told her came to mind now. She adjusted her grip and prayed her arms wouldn't collapse.

Her opponent lunged toward her without warning, veritably flying across the floor with his own sword swinging in a deadly arc toward her neck. She ducked under the razor sharp blade, heard it whistle through the air just over her head, and spun in place, letting his momentum carry him past her and expose his vulnerable back. He wielded a broadsword; it was heavy, slowing him down. But even with that slight advantage, opportunities like this were few and far between. She tightened her grip on the saber and attacked.

But he was much too fast for her to land a blow so easily. He spun to face her and blocked her attack; their blades connected with a loud _clang_, ringing with the force of the impact. He stepped forward, not without effort, and slid the edge of his blade along hers, producing a screech that threatened to pierce her eardrums. She locked her arms and pushed back with all her might, knowing it was a futile gesture. The lighter saber would never hold up against a broadsword in this situation, but she did manage to temporarily stop his forward progress. They stayed frozen like that for a moment, forcing all their remaining strength into their arms, staring into each other's eyes, each as determined to win as the other.

Her arms started quivering; she couldn't hold out much longer…

Applause broke their concentration. Jinx and Will stepped away from each other, lowering their weapons, and turned to see Jem leaning against the doorway of the training room.

Silver eyes smiled at Jinx. "You've improved."

Jinx smiled back, feeling that same thrill and powerful rush of emotion she always felt when Jem was around. It was strange, really; she thought the intensity of her reaction to him would decrease with familiarity, but it was only getting worse. She had been at the Institute for almost three months now and in that relatively brief amount of time, Jem had become a dear friend.

But every time he smiled at her, all thoughts of them being merely friends fled her mind and an indescribable flood of emotion threatened to overwhelm her senses and good reason. And when he touched her, always briefly and respectfully (to correct a fighting stance or to help her in and out of a carriage or chair), she still felt tingles race through her body, quickly followed by her blood heating and rushing through her veins until it made her dizzy and she was sure her face was bright red.

Silently blaming breathlessness as the reason she hadn't answered him yet, she sank to the floor, placed the saber beside her, and started stretching out sore muscles, but had to pause to flip her thick braid back over her shoulder with a fair amount of irritation. _Why didn't I cut it when I had the chance?_ The rope of hair hung down her back now, nearly to her waist, and sufficiently out of her way.

After that little distraction, feigning fatigue didn't require very much acting at all. She was _exhausted_.

Will hadn't been lying when he said training would be hell. He had pushed her body as far as it would go without breaking. But even if he acted more like a slave driver than anything else, she had to admit his methods were effective. The range of weapons she could successfully wield had increased tenfold since they started, though Will had quickly learned that there wasn't much he could teach her about hand-to-hand combat. Jinx forgot—maybe she just didn't want to remember—how many times she had mentally thanked the wise old men of New Orleans' Chinatown for teaching her their _kung fu_, the fighting style that the Western citizens of the city found so difficult to master. She just wished they had taught her their language as well.

The Chinese had, to a certain extent, prepared her for this training. They had pushed her past her limits, physically and mentally, until she thought she would literally drop dead. But she had made the mistake of assuming that because of their harsh tutelage she knew what to expect for Nephilim training. Bad idea. Nothing her Chinese masters ever could have done would have completely prepared her for the past three months.

Will had sent Sophie to wake Jinx before dawn every day, sometimes waking her himself. The skills he focused on changed every morning, never the same thing two days in a row, but one aspect stayed consistent: he always worked her nonstop until breakfast. Henry joined them nearly every day, offering additional instruction and braving her terrible—but now exemplary—knife throwing skills. Sometimes Thomas would join them; not often, though, he usually kept to himself while he trained. Jinx thought he looked rather lonely, but wasn't sure how to question anyone about it.

After breakfast, she spent the remainder of the morning in the library with Jem, nursing sore muscles and studying demons and their abilities, Latin, Nephilim history, runes, and an assortment of other topics she had never heard of before. Admittedly, they tended to let their attention wander a bit. Never for very long, though; Will would always test her knowledge when they resumed physical training in the afternoon. Jem would join them for that most days, as well as Charlotte when she wasn't busy tracking the warlock. Thankfully, Jessamine made a habit of training in the mornings after breakfast, so Jinx never saw much of her, except during meals.

Midday meal was always quick, more often than not consisting of whatever leftovers Agatha had readily available in the kitchen. In the afternoon, Will and Jem would regularly disappear to help Charlotte or tend to other matters that required Nephilim attention, leaving Thomas to oversee her training. Henry tended to hole himself up in the bowels of the Institute to work on his inventions.

Strangely enough, Charlotte seemed to have completely forgotten about informing the Clave of Jinx's presence in London. Jinx had learned a lot about the Clave and Nephilim law, but she still didn't feel quite brave enough to learn about them firsthand yet. The idea of other people wielding enough power to banish her from the life she just found terrified her. So Jinx did not remind Charlotte of that responsibility and, thankfully, neither did anyone else.

After dinner was Jinx's favorite time of day. That was when she had another few hours with Jem in the library. Will and Charlotte made rare appearances, but more often than not they were alone. They always began with the intention of increasing her knowledge of topics every Nephilim her age had memorized, but Jem tended to have a more lenient attitude in the evenings than he had in the mornings; sometimes they would get sidetracked and just talk for hours into the night, until one of them became too tired to stay awake. They would discuss practically every topic under the sun, from favorite colors to their home cities to hated and favorite foods. But he never asked her about her past. He asked about New Orleans and what it was like (the same way she asked about Shanghai), but he never pried into the details of her life there.

Occasionally he would bring his violin to the library and practice while she studied. She had never been partial to violin before; but then again, she had never heard anyone play the way he did. There was something about the sounds Jem could produce from that simple instrument that made her actually enjoy it. It was wonderful to listen to such beautiful music while she studied not-so-beautiful subjects.

That seemed to be the main reason why Will left them alone. He had complained about the terrible screeching noise one night and since then only interrupted them whenever he knew Jem's violin was far away.

Jinx shook her head once, quickly, to get her attention back to the present. She looked up at Jem and smiled her thanks. "I never thought I'd say this," she nodded to Will across the room, where he sliced imaginary opponents into pieces, "but he's an amazing teacher."

Jem nodded. "When he wants to be." He stepped toward her, reaching a hand down to help her up.

A memory suddenly flashed in front of Jinx's eyes and all she could see for a moment was a dark alleyway in New Orleans and a pale hand reaching toward her with an entirely different intent. She instinctively shrank away, reaching for her sword.

_Stop,_ that little voice in the back her head whispered. _Foolish girl, he's just trying to help you up._

That voice had never been wrong before, so she forcibly pushed the memory away, focusing on Jem's eyes instead. When she regained control of her thoughts, Jinx accepted his hand, an apology on her lips as he pulled her up.

He beat her to it.

"No need to apologize, Jinx," he said as he let go of her hand. "I shouldn't have startled you."

Jinx let the matter drop. She didn't know how to explain that he hadn't scared her; well, he had, but only by inadvertently bringing up a memory she wanted to forget. "What are you doing here?" she asked, trying more to distract herself from that little encounter than him. "It can't be dinner time yet, and I thought you were going to an isolated section of Hyde Park to help Henry test one of his inventions this afternoon."

Jem grimaced. "I did, and it didn't work. It nearly set me on fire."

A giggle escaped Jinx's throat, and she tried not to laugh too hard. "If you would stop volunteering to help, you wouldn't have to worry about that."

He sighed, almost theatrically. "But now he is going to develop a fireproof coating to apply to clothing." A crooked grin tugged at his lips, ruining his carefully blank façade. "I won't be testing that for him."

The giggle she swallowed returned with a vengeance, and Jinx nearly doubled over laughing. She could picture the scene quite clearly: Jem standing by the pond in Hyde Park, ready to dive in and watching warily as Henry held a candle to his sleeve. The ginger-haired man would be promising Jem he wouldn't be harmed as the cloth began to flame. _You have my word, James, it's perfectly safe!_

"Well," Jem seemed to be ignoring her mirth, "as it turns out, it's a good thing I nearly burnt to a crisp and returned early. You have a guest, but he won't come inside the Institute."

_A guest?_

Jinx never had guests. In fact, nobody in the Institute had had a visitor in the three months she'd been here. Of course the occasional Shadowhunter would show up for food and a bed, but they never stayed long. The Lightwoods didn't count; they were more intruders than guests and they never came unless absolutely necessary.

Jinx moved toward the door, frowning as she considered who it may be. "Who is he?"

"I don't know." Jem followed her into the hallway and they started making their way to the front doors of the Institute. "He's Nephilim and he traveled by Portal, but that's all I can tell you about him. He wouldn't give me his name and he insisted on speaking with you as soon as possible. And you should know, he's not asking for _Jinx_; he wants to see _R__í__ona Ó Bradagáin_."

Strange. Shadowhunters usually made themselves at home in the Institute. And the fact that he asked for _R__í__ona_ said quite a bit about who he may be. Only someone who had never met her would call her that. Except Jem; he occasionally used her real name. Jinx mulled over who the stranger may be as her feet automatically carried her to the correct hallway that led to the front doors. She had finally figured out how to move around the Institute without aid; it had taken her over a month to memorize all the hallways, but getting lost was now a rare predicament.

Even though she knew what the answer would be, she could not resist asking. "Did Charlotte find anything new this morning?"

Jem didn't even hesitate when he answered; he knew exactly what she referred to. The topic was always near the front of their minds. "No, she didn't."

Jinx suppressed the urge to swear. That da—that _rogue_ warlock had stayed a step or two ahead of them for three months. Thanks to her information, they had learned that the warlock did in fact exist and was attempting to summon a Greater Demon. They still didn't know which demon, though. The Enclave had tracked the locations he used, from one end of the city to the other, even outside the city, but they always stayed a night or two behind him. Tracking him probably would have been much more difficult if he didn't always leave some sort of clue that led them to the next location; some were obvious, others cryptic. Jinx often wondered whether he was merely sloppy or so arrogant he believed they would never catch him, even with help.

A comfortable silence settled over the pair as they strode through the corridors, and Jinx had no inclination to disturb it. Peaceful moments like this were few and far between in their Nephilim life; she had learned to treasure them soon after she arrived. And she couldn't help glancing at her silver companion, even though she knew it would just distract her from every other thought running through her head.

Jem's hair was a bit overlong, he hadn't had Charlotte cut it in a while, and his eyes were smoky gray, not as dark as they had been the first time she met Gabriel Lightwood and not as light or clear as they had been the night she attacked him. But they were distinctly lighter than they had been when today's morning session in the library ended.

Jinx still didn't know what made his eyes change color like that. She had just accepted it as being part of him. And it was truly a part of what made him Jem; it seemed to fit somehow, as if something in his blood was what produced the changes. But no matter how hard she tried not to, she couldn't stop herself from speculating exactly what that something may be. Curiosity plagued her night and day, especially after she noticed the pattern that followed the changes in hue: when his eyes were darker, he was more energetic and he looked and acted healthier; when they were lighter, he seemed to be weaker and didn't train near as hard. He often went to bed early on those days, cutting their evening session in the library short. Those nights were the times she almost questioned him about it.

But she never would. It seemed to be a rather personal matter for him, and since he never asked her why she always recoiled from physical contact, she returned the favor by not asking about his eyes. Or the rest of his odd coloring.

They had arrived at the front doors while she was lost in thought. Jem politely held one open for her and she stepped out onto the top step, a chilly wind immediately cutting through her leather-like gear and cooling her undershirt. It hadn't yet dried from sparing with William; that dampness made the air feel colder than it really was and induced violent shivers. She wrapped her arms around herself and hesitated for a moment, letting her eyes roam over the busy London street before finding the stranger waiting outside the gates, casually leaning against them. Narrowing her eyes, Jinx studied him while she moved down the steps toward the gate, trying to ignore the freezing wind.

He was tall, but not overly so; unlike Jem's slender frame, this man was thicker, built more like Thomas, with bulky muscles straining against his shirt and jacket seams. He wore wool clothes, a touch warmer than the London air called for, and like most all Nephilim men he left his head uncovered. The lack of headwear inexorably drew one's eye to what caught her attention the most: a thick shock of flaming red hair. It was almost too bright to be a natural color, but somehow looked to be more true red than Henry's almost orange ginger shades. The stranger turned to watch her as she walked down the steps toward the gates, and she noticed his eyes were blue. Not the dark yet vivid blue of Will's eyes; these were pale and clear, with a thin ring around the iris so dark it was almost black.

He straightened as she walked through the gates, and the blood drained from his face. He stared at her with no visible inclination to introduce himself.

Jinx shifted her weight nervously. "I'm Ríona. You said you wanted to talk to me?"

The man shook himself, slightly, seeming to clear his head. He nodded toward Jem, who stood beside her. "I prefer speaking in private, if you don't mind, lad." A thick Irish brogue colored his voice.

Jinx hesitated. What could possibly be so important?

_He won't hurt you._

As annoying as that voice got at times, Jinx could hardly imagine living without it. She nodded to Jem; he paused, frowning slightly, before he walked back up to the doors of the Institute.

The stranger cleared his throat. "The rumors are right. You look just like her." He didn't give her a chance to form a response to that cryptic statement, plunging right on without so much as a pause. "Forgive me, I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Laisrén Ó Bradagáin. I'm your uncle."

Jinx's mouth dropped open and she felt her eyes grow wide. _That's impossible._

It might have been probable, if Charlotte hadn't sent the Irish clan a message saying Jinx was alive and in London. But the fact was she had sent that message and no one had shown up to verify the claim. Charlotte hadn't told Jinx about it; she had tried to protect her from getting hurt in case they reacted that way. Jinx, touched by the effort, simply didn't have the heart to tell Charlotte she knew about it and she had known all along they wouldn't take the time to verify her message. The Ó Bradagáin clan hadn't wanted her in the first place, so why would they want to claim her now?

Laisrén was still staring at her, waiting for her to continue the conversation. She didn't know what to say, other than, "Why are you here?"

It came out sounding a bit sharper than she had intended, but he only nodded as though he had expected it. Jinx saw hurt glimmer in his eyes for a moment before he answered. "I wanted to meet my niece."

Jinx narrowed her eyes. Why would he come now? Why not three months ago, when they learned of her presence in London? She opened her mouth to question him, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"I know you must have a lot of questions, but please, Ríona, hear me out."

She considered it briefly before nodding her consent. He had taken the time to come here, after all, so the least she could do was listen.

Relief flashed across his face as he started talking. "I wanted to come see you from the moment I heard you were here. Honestly, I wanted to track your father after he disappeared and bring you back to Ireland. But my father, your grandfather, threatened me and the rest of our family with banishment from Éire if we tried to find you. When he got that message from Charlotte Branwell saying you lived in London, he forbid all members of the family from meeting you. He never accepted Aithche's decision to marry your father, you see, and never forgave her for defying him. Since he can't punish her for it anymore, he's decided to punish you. If he ever learns of this trip, he could disown me or even banish me from Ireland and the rest of my family if he happens to remember that particular threat." Laisrén started patting his pockets, searching for something. "I came through a Portal and there's a warlock keeping it open for me back in Ireland, so I can't stay long. But I wanted to give you this." He pulled a cream-colored silk scarf out of an inside coat pocket. It was folded around something, but Jinx couldn't discern anything about it, other than it was rectangular.

"We Ó Bradagáins have a tradition," Laisrén continued. "We have one massive family dinner every year the day before Christmas Eve and we all receive one of these scarves. The color changes every year. You're lucky, Ríona; last year's scarves were a ghastly shade of purple." He pointed to a crest that had been carefully dyed onto one end. "That's the Ó Bradagáin coat of arms. Everything on it is symbolic." He stepped closer to offer her a better view and pointed to the different elements as he explained them. "The form of the shield, the way it only has a single line straight from one side to the other, represents 'dominion, authority, and wisdom'. How the line is indented stands for fire and I like to think that means we're passionate with quick tempers," he sent her a grin to accompany that opinion, waggling his eyebrows a bit.

He became serious once again as he continued his description: "Now, we have two colors: green above the line and gold below. Green represents hope and loyalty in love; gold, generosity. This fish above the line symbolizes regal origin. I've always believed that before our family became Nephilim we were the rulers of a little slice of Ireland. The two holly leaves here below the line signify truth."

When Laisrén stopped talking, he held the scarf out to her, an expectant look on his face. Jinx accepted the gift a little hesitantly, careful not to drop whatever was wrapped inside it, and gave him a wary smile, not willing to say _Thank you_ to a complete stranger

A grin split his face, making his eyes sparkle at her. "It's made from the best silk China has to offer. I hope you enjoy it."

Jinx froze.

_The best?_

That would be very expensive and it would also mean they only had one scarf made for each family member. She tried to hand it back to him. "I don't want to take anybody's gift. Who was this meant for?"

He stuck his hands in his pockets, refusing to accept it. The grin turned into a reminiscent smile. "Your mother was smart like that, quick as whip and sharper than any blade. I never could sneak anything by her. The scarf was mine. Now, now, don't get all riled up. Most of us don't like it, but these scarves are still a family tradition. You're an Ó Bradagáin and you deserve to be part of it. You have just as much right to that scarf as I do. And nobody ever wears them anyway. Mine won't be missed."

A callused hand suddenly darted to a coat pocket and took out a watch, his smile melting down into a scowl as he glanced at it. "I'm afraid I'm out of time, lass." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but only turned and quickly walked away.

Jinx stared after him for a moment, baffled by his abrupt departure. She shook her head and turned her attention to the scarf, unwrapping whatever he had hidden inside it. Amazement washed over her as she realized how much material was there; the soft silk may have formed a scarf for him, but it would be big enough for a shawl on her.

When the last layer of silk finally fell away from the rectangular object, a painting of a stunningly beautiful woman greeted her eyes. She wasn't beautiful by common standard, not in her outward appearance, at least; the woman's physical features were pretty enough, but they were not what made her so striking. There was vivacity, a love of life in her deep green eyes that managed to shine through, even from the portrait. The impression of vibrancy was heightened by the curling waves of red hair that fell around her face. Unlike Laisrén's hair, this woman's was darker, more of a deep auburn. The portrait ended just below the base of the woman's neck, just low enough for Jinx to see that she was wearing the same type of Nephilim hunting gear Jinx wore. But this lady also wore a necklace. The chain was exquisitely formed from what appeared to be silver; the central stone was an oval sapphire surrounded by diamonds, with more diamonds set into the chain.

Jinx knew without a doubt that this was a portrait of her mother. She shifted her grip on it, trying to get a better look at the gear her mother wore in the portrait—there was a rune etched into it she didn't recognize—when the scarf folded open yet again. To her utter astonishment, the necklace her mother wore in the painting fell out and she just barely managed to catch it before it hit the grimy street.

Jinx stared at it, not quite believing it was real. Through the haze of shock settling over her, some oddly rational part of her brain noticed that the chain didn't feel quite right to be silver and decided that it must be formed from white gold.

Shaking that strange thought away, she jerked her head up, searching desperately for Laisrén, and spotted him a short ways down the street, apparently searching for his Portal. Jinx bundled the scarf up into her arms, making sure to keep a good grip on both the portrait and the necklace, and sprinted toward him.

"Laisrén, wait!"

He turned toward her, surprised stamped across his face. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

Jinx reached him and tried to give her bundle back, but he refused again. "Please, I can't accept this. The necklace alone must be worth a small fortune, and surely the portrait will be missed."

Laisrén shook his head emphatically. "The necklace was your mother's. She left it to you in her will. It was locked up after she died; I doubt anyone will notice its absence. And that painting was mine. I'll tell people I couldn't live with her watching me anymore." He looked over to his Portal across the street, and swore as it started to shrink. "How did it get over there? I'm sorry, I really must go now." He smiled and gently brushed a lose strand of hair away from her eyes. "Even if I'm banished, I will never regret coming here, _iníon dearthár_."

Before he could walk away again, Jinx threw her arms around him as best she could while still holding her gifts. Blinking away tears, she whispered, "Thank you."

He seemed too stunned to react for a moment, but then he returned the hug, holding her tight. "You're welcome. And you are not indebted to me. I am merely giving you what is and always has been rightfully yours." He pulled away and gave her a bittersweet smile. "I'm afraid you'll never see me again. This is farewell."

Laisrén ran across the street and disappeared through the Portal. He never once looked back.

Jinx felt a single tear run down her face as she stared at the empty space that the Portal had occupied just moments before. Though she knew Nephilim didn't say it, she couldn't stop herself from whispering, "Goodbye, Uncle Laisrén."

She walked back to the Institute slowly, trying to process everything that happened and fighting the tears that kept escaping. Jem sat on the front steps, waiting for her. He stood as she walked through the gates; his jaw tightened at the sight of her tears but he didn't say anything as he helped shut and lock the gate. Jinx knew full well he would never ask what happened, so she told him everything as they started to make their way back to the training room.

Jem listened carefully, never interrupting, until she finished.

Even then, he didn't say much. He stopped walking and pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms tightly around her as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Jinx stiffened in surprise, but didn't even try to push away this time; she just folded into him, fisted her hands in his shirt and finally allowed the tears to run uninhibited. She cried for herself, for never getting the chance to know her family. She cried for her mother, who had paid the ultimate sacrifice for a daughter she would never know. She cried for her grandfather, who refused to accept change. She cried for her father, because she finally understood why he went crazy after her mother died. But most of all, she cried for her uncle, who didn't even know her and still loved her enough to risk everything just to bring her a simple gift. Jinx knew that if he had any idea of what her past was like he would not have taken that risk, he would have realize she wasn't worth it. She could only hope he wouldn't be banished from his home because of her.

When the sobs and tremors finally stopped, she held onto Jem for another moment, relishing the comfort she found in his embrace. Then she forced herself to step back. "Th—I appreciate this, Jem." She kept her eyes focused on the floor, not wanting to see his pity.

He bent down a bit, forcing her to meet his intense gaze. "I'll be here, anytime day or night, if you want to talk."

Jinx fought the absurd urge to giggle hysterically. There was no pity in Jem's eyes, only concern and sympathy and…something else she didn't recognize. This was Jem she dealt with after all, so of course he would defy her expectations. She really should have known better. A small sigh escaped her lips as she smiled at him in what she hoped was a grateful manner. "I know."

Jem didn't move back. His gaze held hers for another moment, then it moved down, toward her mouth. He leaned forward, just a fraction, and she held her breath as a rush of anticipation coursed through her.

_Is he really going to—_

"Miss Jinx?" Sophie's voice drifted down the hallway.

Jem froze and then took a step back, his eyes once again on hers. Jinx could have strangled Sophie.

Instead, she turned toward the maid with a smile. "Yes, Sophie, what is it?"

Sophie stopped a little ways from them, taking in Jinx's tear-streaked face and their proximity to each other, before she dipped into a small curtsy. "The Christmas party is tonight, Miss, and you have to bathe and dress for it."

"Now?" Jinx was bewildered. "It doesn't start until after dinner."

Sophie sighed with exaggerated patience. "It will take a few hours to make you presentable, and I have to help Miss Jessamine get ready at the same time."

"Oh." Jinx looked at Jem, wondering if he really would have kissed her given the chance. She had surprised herself with the anticipation she felt when the realization first crossed her mind; she'd always thought the idea would scare her. He probably wouldn't have done it anyway, she decided. Jem considered her a friend and nothing more.

The little voice in the back of her mind tried to tell her something about him, but she forcibly ignored it. She did not want to listen to the voice that was never wrong tell her she was right about Jem's feelings toward her. "Well, Jem, I guess I'll see you at dinner."

"No, you won't," Sophie interjected. "You'll see him at the party."

Jinx, aghast at what the maid implied, glanced at Sophie as they started making their way down the corridor toward the living quarters. "I don't get to eat dinner?"

Sophie chuckled. "There will be food at the party. Not much, mind, but it should be enough to tide you over until breakfast."

_Wonderful._ And of course she would be expected to dance as well.

"Yes, miss, there will be dancing." Sophie sounded distinctly amused.

Jinx deliberately shut her mouth and tried to keep it shut. She did not need to be grumbling right now. Steeling herself for what may be one of the worst nights of her life, she followed Sophie to Jessamine's bedroom and the misery that would be there.

But she couldn't resist one more glance back at Jem, who still stood in the same spot, and a strikingly familiar scene greeted her eyes. She struggled to place it for a second, wondering where the feeling of déjà vu came from, and then it hit her. This was the same thing she had seen when Jem had first escorted her to the Institute. Except for the clothes they wore and the time of day, almost every detail was the same.

Right down to that intense and still unidentified look on Jem's face.

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><p><strong>I added another URL to my profile if you're curious about the information I used for the coat of arms. And there are two others: one for the necklace and one for the color of the silk scarf. The term "<em>iníon dearthár<em>" that Laisrén used means "niece" and can be found at the same site I used for Irish names. Apparently the term is rarely used to address one's niece, for obvious reasons (you probably don't call your niece "niece"), but I thought that little encounter might be a good exception to the rule.**

**Next chapter:...wait for it...drum roll please...The Christmas Party! Please review! And please tune in again next week for...dang, sorry, I can't tell the chapter title 'cause it'll kinda give everything away. Anyway, please review! And thank you for reading :)**


	9. Dancing & Mistletoe

**Author's note:** Here we go, the infamous Christmas Party! I actually wasn't planning on writing this when I came up with the story idea, but then I looked at my timeline and realized I could not have a story set around this time of year and not attempt the Christmas party. So, here you go! I hope you enjoy and please review! Oh, just so you know, I have anonymous reviews enabled, so you don't have to have an account to review. I can't properly thank you for the review but trust me when I say that I will greatly appreciate all of them.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, Jem and the rest of Infernal Devices are still fictional and still belong to Cassandra Clare. Jinx is fictional as well, of course, but she belongs to me.

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Dancing &amp; Mistletoe<strong>

"She's not here yet."

Will's voice interrupted Jem as he scanned the crowded ballroom. He looked over at his _parabatai_ with what he hoped was an innocent expression. "Who isn't here yet?"

Vivid blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "Jinx. Who else would you be looking for?" he drawled in that annoyingly arrogant tone he constantly kept.

Jem ignored the tone as he returned his gaze to the crowd in the ballroom. There was a notable difference now, though: feminine eyes had followed Will when he moved to stand beside Jem and they were still trained on him. Jem glanced at Will again, taking in his appearance. His attire was similar to Jem's, they both wore formal clothes, though a few differences were notable. They both wore black tailcoats, black trousers, white gloves, and white shirts, but Jem had chosen to be festive and wore a bright red waistcoat while William's was the standard white. Will's festivity showed in his necktie, which was a vivid shade of green. Jem hadn't bothered with a top hat—most Nephilim men didn't—but, strangely enough, Will wore one and had adorned it with a green ribbon that matched his necktie. The younger ladies in attendance appeared to appreciate their rebellions from standard fashion; brothers and fathers made sure to linger close by and curb their enthusiasm.

"I could be looking for Jessamine." Jem returned his gaze to the door.

Will snorted. "I highly doubt that. Would you excuse me, James?"

That sudden change of tone from arrogant to rather diabolical caught Jem's attention and he turned to watch Will walk toward a beautiful girl with brown hair and green eyes. _That had better not be Gabriel's sister._

Jem shook his head with resignation and hoped Will wouldn't do anything reckless. Again. But he knew well enough that William Herondale staying out of trouble was an impossible hope, so he settled for deciding not to intervene unless absolutely necessary.

His attention shifted back to the exquisitely decorated room. A massive evergreen dominated one corner, draped in colorful ribbons and tasteful ornaments; the musicians had chosen to situate themselves along the wall beside it, directly opposite the doors. Sprigs of mistletoe, their color nearly matching that of Will's necktie, hung from strategic points of the ceiling, including doorways and the edge of the dance floor. Occasionally a couple would stop underneath one and share a kiss, whether they had intended to or not. Crowds tended to converge around those areas, circling those who got caught and refusing to move until the couple participated in the tradition.

Jem tried to avoid those particular spots.

Formal occasions such as these were one of the few times when white was an acceptable color for Nephilim to wear outside of a funeral, but they still avoided it as much as possible. Most likely from habit more than anything else; people did not like reminders of death in festive occasions, though white shirts and waistcoats appeared here and there among the men. That avoidance of white as though it was the return of the Great Plague never failed to produce a very colorful crowd, which offered the eye some interesting views wherever it went. But as Jem's gaze swept across the room, he still didn't see the one person he longed for.

Hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end, signaling that someone watched him. He surreptitiously studied the crowd, turning on his heel to widen his search area until he found the culprit.

A tall young lady about his age stood a short distance from him, on the edge of the dance floor, and thankfully far away from the nearest mistletoe. An inviting smile graced her features.

Jem almost shrugged. Jinx still hadn't made an appearance and a dance with a stranger may keep his thoughts away from her.

He made his way over to the girl, taking in her appearance as he went. She wore a deep red—satin, perhaps?—dress and she was beautiful, though it was decidedly different from Jinx's beauty. Unlike Jinx's thick dark curls, this girl's hair was a shade of blonde so pale it almost looked white and appeared to be bone-straight, making it hard to tell how thick it was. As he got closer he could tell her eyes were not the dark brown he had expected; they were dark, yes, but a shade of blue so deep it almost looked black. The color was solid as well, no discernable difference in hue anywhere in the iris.

It had a disturbing effect, making him feel as though he looked down into an empty well instead of a pair of human eyes.

She held out her gloved hand as Jem approached and he took it gently, bending over it to lightly kiss the back of her knuckles. Jem smiled as he straightened and offered her his arm. "May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss…?"

"Elsie Morgenstern." Her voice was soft and cultured. Somebody had obviously spent a good amount of time and effort into teaching her how to speak "proper" English. "I would be delighted, Mr.…?"

"James Carstairs." He led her out to the dance floor just as the music changed to a waltz.

Miss Morgenstern easily stepped into his arms, a little closer than the waltz required them to be. _She is definitely the complete opposite of Jinx,_ Jem mused. Jinx had never once initiated contact like that in the three months since she arrived.

What Jinx _had_ done was throw herself into training with a vengeance. Jem suspected she was trying to make up for lost time. She had never once complained, not even when they woke her before dawn and worked her all day, pausing only for short meals.

He vividly remembered his own shock, as well as the look on Will's face, when they realized how capable of a fighter she already was. The shock didn't stem from the fact that she knew how to fight; that much was well established before the first training session. It stemmed from just how much she knew. She almost defeated William the first time he sparred with her.

That was when they decided to focus more on weapons than hand-to-hand combat. Most of a Shadowhunter's fighting centered around weapon usage anyway, and now that they knew she had a good foundation of not-so-basic fighting skills, they could immediately focus on the weapons aspect. Jinx seemed to be a quick learner with blades; she picked up on throwing knives and using seraph blades and a decent range of other assorted blades fairly easily, but she struggled with using whips and wire and the like. Charlotte had tried to teach her effective use of a whip once and…well, the training room was never quite the same after that session.

One aspect of Jinx's behavior had yet to change, however: she still nearly jumped out of her skin whenever someone touched her. Charlotte's touch didn't seem to garner quite as extreme of a reaction as the men's; Jinx still flinched away from the contact, but not quite so noticeably. Jem didn't know whether they actually _scared_ Jinx or if they merely startled her, or maybe they just dredged up old memories she'd rather forget. Whatever her reasons, the girl rarely allowed anyone to get close to her.

Physically or emotionally, for that matter. She seemed to have erected walls around herself at some point in her life and she had become very good at hiding behind them. Only bits and pieces of personality occasionally seeped through the cracks. But she didn't seem to be deceiving them, at least it didn't appear that way to Jem; she wasn't adopting a false persona, she just hid her true self. So effectively, in fact, that most times she didn't seem to have a personality at all. Jem knew that wasn't true. There were enough cracks in her defenses to allow him, and most everyone else at the Institute, to see that she did in fact have a personality, and a quite amazing one at that. But, those defenses were still impressive enough to make it impossible to tell whether she allowed herself to grow emotionally close to anyone. As far as Jem could tell, she kept an emotional distance greater than the physical buffer she maintained.

Oh, and of course, it wasn't just physical training she threw herself into these past months; she also dedicated herself to what she could learn from the library. Jem had helped her study the various subjects Nephilim usually learn from a very young age and quickly became impressed with her once again. She had been gifted with a sharp intellect and an excellent memory; if she read something, she did not easily forget it.

And she had a talent for puzzles. The warlock's clues were exactly the type of puzzle she was good at. Some of the more obvious ones confounded her, merely because she did not know certain aspects of the Shadow World yet, but those obscure riddles he would occasionally leave to slow them down—which he undoubtedly did when he left harder clues to figure out; it almost felt as though the warlock was _toying_ with them—she would untangle those types of clues relatively quickly. There was just something about the way Jinx's mind worked that allowed her to make the complicated connections necessary to unravel those riddles, connections that would never have occurred to most Nephilim.

But languages were an entirely different matter. Jem had decided that she possessed a very visual memory system: she could watch them demonstrate an action and then repeat it and she could also recall anything from a book, reciting it almost word-for-word, but if she had to listen to learn, she would not remember near as well. Languages were, therefore, quite difficult for her. She could remember how the words looked when written down; indeed, she could read and write fluently in most all the languages she studied, but for some reason she struggled with speaking and listening to them.

No matter how frustrating that factor became some days, those were still his favorite moments of the past three months: the hours they spent alone in the library. Jinx was gradually becoming better about trusting the others and allowing them to get to know her, but for some reason she opened up best when she was alone with Jem. Those were the moments she would let her guard down—more than just cracks here and there—and let him see everything happening behind those gorgeous eyes. Well, she did not allow him to see _everything_; she still hadn't told him much about her past and he had never questioned her about it. She would tell him about it when she was ready. Nevertheless, he knew those precious memories would be very dear to him for the rest of his life. She would allow him in during those moments, allow him to get to know her. She seemed to trust him then. His…illness had forced him to cut some of their library sessions short, and he regretted that.

Jem sighed. He still hadn't told Jinx of his condition. He admitted it was rather selfish of him, but he could never seem to find the courage to tell her. The way she looked at him, she truly saw _him_ and nothing else. Others saw only his weakness. Jinx saw his strength and he wasn't ready to give that up yet.

"Who is that?" Elsie's voice invaded his reverie.

Jem shook himself. _Damn it!_ He berated himself for allowing his mind to wander. _I decided to dance with Elsie to keep myself from thinking about Jinx and that is all I've done._ "I apologize for my lack of manners, Miss Morgenstern," he said quietly. "I must be a very boring dance partner tonight."

She glanced up at him, looking slightly disappointed. "It's quite all right, Mr. Carstairs." Elsie nodded her head toward another couple waltzing around the floor. "Do you know who that girl is? The one dancing with Gabriel Lightwood. I don't recognize her."

Jem followed her gaze to the couple she referred to. The girl's back was to him, so all he could tell was that she was about his age and petite. Her dark brown hair had been elegantly piled atop her head with only a few carefully styled curls escaping. She wore the just-past-elbow-length gloves typical of formal fashion, but they were not the standard white; they were cream, perfectly matching the silk shawl draped over her shoulders. The combination of the two covered whatever skin her dress didn't, making it impossible for him to recognize her based on that.

After that first brief glance, he focused on her dress, hoping to gather clues from it as to her identity. It had been made in the French style of evening gowns, with sleeves off her shoulders—as far as he could tell—and was cut from a beautiful midnight shade of blue silk. Cream ribbons, which thankfully were not tied into the bows so many women seemed to prefer these days, that matched her shawl and gloves twined around the dress; the ribbons had been designed to shift slightly as she moved, revealing bright red lace sown to the blue silk underneath the ribbons. It was expertly done. The lace would only show when she moved and even then it was just a brief glance, just a brief glimpse of unexpected color. The overall effect was mesmerizing.

Since there was nothing about the dress to reveal her identity, Jem focused back on the girl herself. There was something familiar about the way she carried herself; it was in the set of her shoulders, the rather annoyed tilt of her head…could it be?

_No,_ he thought, _she wouldn't wear anything so fancy._

He looked back at Gabriel in time to catch a wince. _Poor chap_, he thought. Whoever the young lady was, she must be a terrible dancer.

Just then, Gabriel turned a bit, revealing his partner's profile, and Jem nearly tripped over his own feet.

_What is _she_ doing dancing with Gabriel Lightwood?_

While he didn't actually stumble, there was a falter in his step, apparently enough for Elsie to notice. She looked back to him quickly. "Are you all right, James?"

He nodded quickly, trying to overcome his surprise. "Yes, I'm fine. Her name is…Ríona Ó Bradagáin." Jem wasn't sure what prevented him from telling her Jinx's nickname, but as soon as he saw his dance partner's reaction to _Ó Bradagáin_ he knew it was the right decision.

Elsie's eyes went wide and her voice lowered to a whisper. "Aren't they that reclusive Irish clan? They've never come to this Christmas party before, at least not that I know of." She plunged on, not giving him time to answer. "At least she isn't that bastard everyone's been talking about. What's that girl's name again? It's perfectly awful, whatever it is. 'Curse' or something like that. I didn't know the Irish had dark skin like that, though. It's rather unfortunate for the poor girl, don't you think?"

Thankfully the musicians chose to end the waltz just then, saving Jem from having to form a polite reply. "Would you like me to introduce you to her?" he asked after a brief pause.

Elsie's eyes grew even wider. "You know an Ó Bradagáin?"

Jem didn't trust himself to say anything else, so he politely took her arm and led her over to where Jinx and Gabriel stood. He noticed that Jinx kept herself as far away from Gabriel as possible while still staying close enough to be considered civil; he had to try not to chuckle at her thinly veiled irritation as she glared up at her dance partner. As they drew closer, Jinx glanced over at him and smiled in not-so-carefully-hidden relief.

"Jem!" she exclaimed, not too loudly, and her smile seemed to heat the air to an almost uncomfortable temperature.

"Good evening, Ríona," he answered, returning her smile.

Gabriel nodded at him stiffly. Jem returned the acknowledgement but his gaze never left Jinx.

"Good evening," she said, still smiling at him. Her attention then shifted to Elsie and the smile, while it didn't shrink, seemed to chill the air instead of warming it. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Miss."

Jinx's voice, for some reason, sent ice running through Jem's veins; he could only imagine what it did to Elsie.

The effect must have been great indeed, for Elsie's finely cultured voice faltered for the first time. "Oh…uh…" she glanced at Jem for help.

He stepped in smoothly. "Ríona, this is Elsie Morgenstern. Elsie, I would like you to meet a dear friend of mine, Ríona Ó Bradagáin."

Jinx glanced at Jem and nodded minutely after he said her name. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Morgenstern." Her smile was still icy.

That was odd. Jinx was usually so friendly.

What could possibly be wrong with Elsie Morgenstern?

"Pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Ó Bradagáin." Elsie's voice still shook a bit.

The musicians chose that moment to start another waltz, and Jem turned to Jinx before anyone else could seize the opportunity from him. "May I have the pleasure, Ríona?"

Jinx's complete attention finally focused on him again and her smile now set his blood afire. "I would be delighted. If you'll excuse me, Gabriel." She hardly spared the Lightwood a glance.

Jem swept her into his arms and spun them both away before any protests could be made.

And for a moment, all was right with the world. He held Jinx close, but not too close, he didn't want to scare her, and they danced across the floor.

Gracefully.

Jem looked at Jinx and raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

She smiled, almost sheepishly. "You noticed me stepping on Gabriel's toes, didn't you?"

"I was expecting torment."

Jinx looked like she wanted to smack him but refrained. "I was trying to get rid of him. I don't know what it is with the Lightwoods."

Jem narrowed his eyes, curiosity bubbling up within him. "How did you end up dancing with him, anyway?"

She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. "He just came up and asked me and I tried to politely refuse."

He quirked an eyebrow at her again, silently asking for elaboration.

"He didn't offer an explanation for why he wanted to dance with me, so I told him I don't dance. I never told him I _can't_ dance, but he thought that was what I meant."

"What did he say?"

"He offered to teach me."

Jem choked back laughter. He had never heard anyone sound so dismayed at common courtesy.

Jinx glared at him suspiciously, but only shrugged. "Oh, well, it did give me an excuse to tread on his toes."

"Tread?" he repeated. "Is your New Orleans drawl finally being replaced?"

She smiled. "Maybe." She glanced back in Gabriel's direction. "I don't think he actually believed me when I said you were going to train me. He looked shocked when I told him you'd taken me out to fight demons." She paused, frowning the way she always did when she thought up a theory. "Actually, I'm not sure whether he was shocked about me fighting or me surviving to tell him about it."

"He's a Lightwood." Jem twirled her and pulled her back in, closer this time. "It could be either one."

They stared into each other's eyes as their feet continued to carry them across the floor. The rest of the world seemed to disappear, leaving the two of them alone with the strains of music drifting through the air. She was so close he could smell her, that scent of fresh rain that always clung to her skin. He didn't understand how he knew, but it had to be how the Irish countryside smelled during a rainstorm. It was _pure_, a quality rarely found in London's sooty air.

_It was intoxicating._

His gaze involuntarily slipped down to her mouth. They were so close it really wouldn't take any effort to kiss her; he just knew that perfectly formed mouth would be soft under his.

One corner of her bottom lip disappeared as Jinx started chewing on it and Jem forced himself to close his eyes and back off a bit. She would only do that when she was nervous. But she didn't try to move away.

She trusted him.

The realization felt like an overgrown Ravener had just tackled him from behind. He would not—_could_ not allow himself to betray her trust. Something told him that too many people had done so in her past.

_I will not scare her._

Besides, for all he knew she didn't even want him to kiss her. She could think of him only as a friend.

No matter how she thought of him, touching her like this would always trigger the same reaction. First tingles would race along his skin, quickly followed by his blood heating up and rushing through his veins and scrambling his thoughts until he could hardly control his actions. A powerful wave of desire, based more from emotion than primal instinct, would overwhelm him until he couldn't trust himself.

But he needed to ignore that.

Jem cleared his throat. "I think he was curious about the girl who had the nerve to call him a bastard."

Jinx blinked at him, hazel eyes blank for a moment, and then they lit up the way they always did when she realized something. Then they started sparkling mischief at him. "At least I didn't tell him about the dragon demon incident," she said with a grin. "That would've been an entertaining tale to take back to his father."

He laughed as he twirled her again. "I wish I could be there to watch."

The urge to kiss her had faded somewhat—down to an ignorable level, at least—and they settled into a comfortable silence as the waltz continued, moving smoothly across the dance floor. Jinx was one of the few people he knew who was willing to let a comfortable silence such as this continue. Jem watched her as they danced, trying to avoid making her feel like he was staring, and was nothing short of amazed at what he saw.

The young lady he'd known for the past three months had never let this side show. The elaborate yet elegant evening dress that deepened the shades of green in her eyes, the expensive shawl—which he now recognized as her uncle's scarf—elegantly draped over her shoulders, and that stunning sapphire necklace did not look like anything Jinx would willingly wear. She always wore simple attire with her hair securely pinned up or braided to keep it out of her way; she had never fussed over her appearance. It was one of the things he loved about her.

Shock flooded Jem's mind once again as that one particular word reverberated in his head: _love_.

_Is that what this feeling is?_ His eyes stayed trained on her as he considered it.

It seemed so feeble a word to describe how he felt; such a little bit of sound could not possibly express everything, and yet it did. It explained why he longed for her presence when they were apart; how she could light up a room merely by walking into it, no matter how black her mood may be; why he felt a thrill whenever he saw her; why he felt so…whole when she was near; how she could be so infuriating one moment and angelic the next; most of all, it explained how whenever they were together, the rest of the world disappeared. For those brief moments in time, he didn't worry about his condition or William getting himself killed or anything else about his Shadowhunter lifestyle. Jinx was all that mattered.

Those moments, which had occurred almost every evening for the past three months, were the only times he could allow himself to focus on her and nothing else. And more often than not, he ended up getting lost in her eyes. Those breathtaking eyes had captivated him as soon as they met, especially the light that shone through and gave her the stunning beauty that made heads turn her direction everywhere she went. He now knew what that light was: her vivaciousness, her love of life, the way she never backed down from a challenge, the way she never wanted to miss anything, the way she treasured the little moments that truly mattered in life, the way she could find a reason to smile in any situation…_that_ was what produced the light behind her eyes. Those were the qualities that made her so gorgeous, whether she wore this evening dress with her hair perfectly styled or if she wore fighting gear covered with mud and demon ichor.

Although those eyes did tend to be very distracting. There were times when he completely missed everything she said to him.

"—more often."

Jem closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his head. "Pardon me?" His mind still reeled from the realization that he was well and truly in love with Jinx. He could hardly believe it.

But he really needed to stop permitting his thoughts to wander freely tonight.

Jinx smiled at his confusion. "I said you should wear that color more often."

"White?"

She playfully swatted his arm. "No, that red waistcoat." She leaned away from him, taking in his appearance. "It puts a tinge of color in your face. I like it."

Jem pulled her back in, lowering his voice to a murmur. "I'll be sure to remember that."

Jinx tilted her head back to look him in the eye, a sharp edge of annoyance entering her voice. "Alright, what is wrong with me tonight?"

_What?_ He frowned at her. "Why do you ask?"

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You've been staring at me ever since the dance started. Is there something on my face or in my hair? Or is it this da—" she paused and briefly closed her eyes before correcting herself, "this _monstrosity_ of a dress?"

He laughed at her attempt to avoid swearing. "I doubt your dress is damned. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with you."

Jinx rewarded his answer with a brilliant smile; but for a moment, it reminded him a bit of Will's smile. There was something in her eyes that didn't quite fit, something deeply mournful and yearning, as though she was thinking, _If only._

The music stopped, rather abruptly. Their feet stilled a beat too late and they stepped away from each other ever so slightly, politely applauding the musicians along with everyone else on the floor. Then Jem gently took her arm to lead her off the floor, hoping to distract her from whatever it was that made her sad.

"I believe you questioned Sophie about food, correct?"

Jinx shook her head once, very quickly. She always did that when she tried to focus herself on something, Jem had noticed. He was no longer surprised at how affectionate the thought was, just as he now understood why she had been able to stir up his emotions, even when he hadn't known her for very long. He had always believed love could start in an instant; for him that instant had been the night they met, when she accepted his arm and agreed to come to the Institute.

But he had no reason to believe she felt the same way toward him. So, he would be patient, wait for some kind of sign that told him how she felt, and until that moment arrived he would just be her friend.

"I thought she said there would be food here," Jinx grumbled as she scanned the room. "But I haven't seen any yet—"

"We have another!" a voice cried.

A crowd suddenly converged, forming a loose circle around them. Jem felt Jinx tense and he instinctively pulled her a bit closer, not sure what to expect. Voices sounded all around, urging them to do something, and horror abruptly washed over Jem. He glanced up, toward the ceiling, hoping against hope that it wouldn't be there, but there it was.

A small sprig of mistletoe hung directly above Jinx's head.

Jem felt his eyes slip closed and he shook his head in disbelief.

_This is not happening._

He opened his eyes and focused his gaze on Jinx, silently apologizing for what he had to do. Her attention remained fixed on the mistletoe for another second, then her eyes dropped down to him with an unreadable expression that spread to the rest of her face as she turned to face him. It reminded him of that look she'd had in the hall earlier that afternoon, right after her uncle's visit.

Jem still couldn't believe he almost kissed her then. The way she had frozen, holding her breath, should have clearly conveyed her fear and made him back off, but it took Sophie's interruption to wake him from the haze. By the Angel, he had just held her while she cried her eyes out and he had been willing to take advantage of her fragile emotional state. Jem regretted that more than words could ever express. She had obviously been terrified and he could only imagine what she thought of him now.

He would _never_ make that mistake again.

Jinx's eyes were now focused down on the floor. Jem gently hooked two fingers under her chin, tilting her head back and forcing her to look at him. He knew he wouldn't be able to bear seeing the fear in her face, so he looked past her as he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. Lightly, with very little pressure, the contact hardly counted as a kiss, but just that brief friction was nearly enough to snap his control, and it was almost physically painful to pull away. But he had to.

_I will not scare her._

The crowd dispersed, looking and sounding rather disappointed. Jem didn't care. All he cared about right now was Jinx.

He finally allowed himself to meet her eyes, only to find her looking at anything but him. She appeared to be on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry you had to do that, Jem."

Her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear it. There was something in her tone that didn't fit, something that was wrong somehow, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it before Jinx spun around, quickly walking away from him.

Jem stood there for a single instant before he understood what was wrong with her tone.

She wasn't scared. _She was disappointed._

The realization of what she thought had happened hit him and he cursed his idiocy. He'd been so concerned with not scaring her he had ended up treating her like she was made of fine crystal, as though looking at her wrong would cause her to shatter into millions of pieces. She must have thought he'd been appalled at the mere thought of kissing her. He knew now that hadn't been what she hoped for and it most definitely was not true.

But she would never know that if he didn't tell her.

Jem could still see her and slipped through the crowd, calling out to her, trying to catch her, but she somehow managed to completely disappear. Jem had expected her to stand out in this crowd, but she didn't. She blended in. That did not make any sense at all. With her coloring she should not be able to do that; but, this was Jinx he was dealing with. She always managed to defy expectations.

He desperately scanned the faces in the crowd as he weaved his way around the room until he reached the spot where he began his circuit. A dull ache set into his joints and Jem could feel his heart racing a bit too fast, but he ignored the warning signs. He gave the room one last anxious glance, searching for her hair or dress, maybe her shawl, but his hopes were in vain.

Jinx had vanished.

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><p><strong>Yes, Elsie <em>Morgenstern<em>. Couldn't resist dropping that name. So, there are a couple new URLs on my profile for Jinx's dress and hairstyle if you're curious. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	10. Poison & Trust

**Author's note:** Good morning, everyone! Or afternoon, or evening, or whatever time it is wherever you are! I completely lack inspiration for a cute little author's note today, so without further do, here is chapter ten!

**Disclaimer:** Nothing but Jinx belongs to me. By writing this I do not intend to infringe on anyone's copyrights or...uh...insert lawyer speak here so I can continue my fic.

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Poison &amp; Trust<strong>

Jinx slowly wandered down the hallway. She had fled the ballroom right after the…mistletoe _incident_ and had made up her mind not to go back. Tears stung at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. The way Jem kissed her had made it painfully clear that he only saw her as a good friend. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her when he did it, and it had been so brief she wasn't sure it counted as a kiss. And the touch had been so light she hardly even felt it.

Jem would be an amazing friend. She had been telling herself that for three months and now she had proof.

It was nothing to cry about.

_So why does it hurt so much?_

"Jinx!"

She snapped her head around at the sound of Jem's voice. At first the hall was empty, nothing in it except her and the torches flickering erratically along the walls, but then Jem stepped into an intersection just down the corridor. His attention was momentarily focused away from her, and she immediately felt the temptation to blend into the shadows so she wouldn't have to talk to him. She knew she could do it, even in this outlandish getup. The urge only lasted a moment, though; the instant after it flashed across her mind Jem turned and looked straight at her.

Their eyes met. Jinx couldn't make herself walk away and after a moment's hesitation Jem moved toward her, silver eyes looking worried as he crossed the distance separating them with quick strides.

"Jinx, about what happened, I—"

She held up her hand. "Stop."

He froze in place, the worry on his face escalating into pure anxiety. "What's wrong?"

A single tear slipped through her defenses and she squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked several times in rapid succession, even tried staring straight into a torch to prevent the flood, but it was no use. Her control shattered. Words started spilling out of her mouth and she could do nothing to stop them. But thankfully tears did not accompany the verbal torrent. Yet.

"Honestly, James, it's you." Jinx saw the shock and confusion mixed with hurt flash in his eyes and averted her own. She didn't think she could bear seeing the pity that would inevitably follow. "You are by far the strangest person I've ever met. You're kind, considerate, gentle, you don't pry into my past, you put up with my little habits that would drive anyone else crazy…you actually _care _about people. Not just people you know; people in general. You don't judge them, you just listen, but nothing you hear ever seems to bother you. Nothing ever ruffles your feathers and believe me, I've tried. You're the best friend I've ever had, the kind of friend I've always dreamt of having." She snapped her mouth shut, trying to force the words on the tip of her tongue back down her throat, but it was no use. They spilled out, and she could not take them back now.

"In all honesty, James, I'm in love with you."

Jinx had never thought of herself as a coward, but in that instant she was. She could not bring herself to look at him, to see the pity in his eyes that was undoubtedly there. She was supposed to be his friend. Friends weren't supposed to say _I love you_. Not _that_ way, at least. Tears stung the back of her eyes again and another escaped to trail down her face, but she forced the rest of them back.

_I will not cry in front of him._

"Jinx—" his voice was quiet, near whisper level, and notably shocked.

She held a hand up to stop him again. "Don't. I know what you're going to say. I'm just a friend to you, and that's fine, Jem. I can be content with that, and I promise you'll never hear anything about this ever agai—"

Something pressed firmly against her mouth, abruptly silencing her. Jinx let out a quiet _mmph_ of surprise and her eyes widened with pure shock as she realized Jem was kissing her again. She saw the intense emotion filling his silvery eyes, just a glimpse, before her own slipped shut. This was absolutely nothing like the way he had kissed her in the ballroom. He had been hesitant then, a bit too careful, but this…

_This is bliss._

She wound her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his silky hair, dimly noticing her shawl slipping off her shoulders to decorate the floor. That voice in the back of her head started whispering at her, trying to tell her something, and, irritated at the interruption, she snapped at it, _Go away. I really don't need you anymore._

Deep inside her mind, something wrenched away. Jinx gasped against Jem's mouth at the sharp stab of pain and she felt…empty somehow, as though a part of her truly had just departed.

But that hollowness didn't last long, for passion rose to take the place of whatever left. Jem wrapped his arms around her, pressing her smaller body tightly against his larger one as she kissed him back. She felt his fingers splay open wide on her back and nerves across her body tingled in response. Powerful emotions she couldn't begin to describe continued to swirl about within her even as he broke the kiss.

They both gasped for air. Jinx kept her eyes shut, trying to make herself think clearly again, as Jem shifted his mouth closer to her ear.

"I love you, Jinx."

Her eyes flashed open wide at his whispered declaration. Joy welled up inside, making her feel giddy, and she opened her mouth to return the sentiment.

But Jem was still whispering something into her ear. Confused, she tipped her head just a little close, trying to understand what he was saying, and then she frowned. "Jem, what are you saying? You know I don't understand Mandarin."

No answer.

"Jem?" she raised her voice a notch.

Still nothing.

She leaned away from him, trying to get a good look at his face. "Jem, what's wrong?"

He collapsed against her without warning, making Jinx stumble under the sudden weight.

"_James!"_

Unable to hold him up, she awkwardly lowered him to the floor, wincing when he landed a bit too hard, and rolled him onto his back. Then she froze.

Jem gazed at the ceiling with pure white eyes. There was no color in them other than a tiny black speck where the pupils were, like twin specks of ash in a bowl of milk, and she could see the torchlight reflecting in them. He still whispered in Mandarin, though the volume was steadily increasing, and then the solid stream of incomprehensible sounds abruptly cut off as he rolled onto his side, facing away from her as hacking coughs racked his body.

A fine mist of blood sprayed across the floor.

Jinx did the only thing she could think to do. She ran for help.

Holding her skirts up out of her way, she made it to the ballroom doors in record time, where she took a brief moment to straighten her dress before stepping into the crowd. Jinx quickly wove through the people, searching for one in particular and thinking quickly about where she might find him.

_He was with a pretty girl earlier, so he'll probably be with her in some remote corner of the room, perhaps a balcony._

Jinx found him with the girl she remembered seeing before and they were indeed in an alcove hidden from the rest of the room. "Will!" she called from a short distance away, not wanting to get very close. She didn't particularly want to see whatever it was he and the girl were doing.

He didn't even turn to look at her. "Unless you're planning on joining us, go away."

Anger sparked within her and, ignoring the threatening tone in those last two words, she stalked up behind him. "William Herondale, this _will not wait_!"

Will spun around, glaring at her. "What—"

Jinx cut him off with the words she knew he would not question. "Jem collapsed."

Blood drained from his face and he instantly became serious. "Take me to him."

Jinx led him through the crowd without another word, dimly noticing that he didn't even give the girl a farewell. As soon as they were in the corridor, she gathered up her skirts again and ran back to Jem.

"What happened?" Will asked while they sprinted. Well, she sprinted; his stride was closer to a leisurely run.

"I don't know." Jinx felt tears burn behind her eyes once again and angrily pushed them away. Jem needed her help. He did not need her tears.

After what seemed like an eternity to Jinx, they arrived where she had left Jem. He hadn't moved.

Will knelt beside his _parabatai_ and leaned over him, muttering something under his breath. "Help me carry him. We need to get him to his room." The order was curt and held nothing of Will's typical arrogant tones.

Jinx immediately moved to obey. She helped leverage Jem so he sat on the floor instead of looking like a hacking rug and Will draped one terrifyingly limp arm over his shoulders. He then waved her off and managed to lurch to his feet without help, supporting most of Jem's weight. "I can do it alone. Just make sure we aren't followed."

She flinched at his sharp words and reached for her shawl where it had fallen to the floor, then trailed a few steps behind Will as he started making his way through the winding corridors.

The trip to Jem's bedroom was surprisingly quick and thankfully uneventful, though Jem kept mumbling in Mandarin and occasionally his voice would rise almost to a shout. Every time that happened, Jinx found herself glancing over her shoulder, expecting someone to run up to them and dreading the sight, though she wasn't sure why.

When they arrived outside Jem's bedroom door, Jinx opened it for Will and helped him maneuver Jem onto the bed.

Will abruptly took Jinx's arm and ushered her out into the hallway. "Don't tell anyone about this."

Jinx stared up at him, shocked at the look in his eyes. She had never seen him show this much emotion before; she recognized worry, concern, fear—but there was nothing to be scared of. _Hopefully._ "Why not?"

He stared into her eyes, silently begging her not to argue. "Just don't." His voice dropped to a whisper as he said one word she had never heard him say with sincerity before. _"Please."_

She stubbornly held his gaze. "What's wrong with him?"

Will hesitated, then shook his head. "It's not my secret to tell."

Jinx fought the urge to scream in frustration. She wanted to help Jem and she couldn't do that if she didn't know what was wrong! Anger colored her vision red, almost making her lose her grip on reason, but she understood Will's logic all too well, so she forced herself to calm down before she opened her mouth. "All right, I won't tell anyone."

Relief momentarily flooded into Will's face and he smiled his thanks, but then a shout in Mandarin rang through the air and anxiety returned once again. He stepped back into the room and gave her a near apologetic look before he shut the door.

Jinx stared at the thin wooden barrier for a few seconds, then turned and put her back against the cold stone wall next to it, slowing sliding down to sit on the floor. She buried her face in her hands; she didn't know what to think, much less what to do. And as hard as she tried avoiding it, the thought materialized in her head, unbidden and unwanted.

_What if he's dying?_

She waited. That voice usually hissed something at her in these moments, but it was silent. Sudden fear almost paralyzed her; the voice had never been completely silent for so long before. For the first time in her memory, she had no idea what to expect.

Jinx leapt to her feet and quickly walked to her own bedroom. It would probably be a while before she could talk to Jem—assuming he would recover—and she would not wait in this damn thing Jessamine called _fashionable attire_. She hurriedly slipped out of it, hesitated, and then reached for one of the dresses Sophie had made for her. Fighting gear would definitely be more comfortable, but she didn't really want to try to explain why she wore it if someone happened to come check on them. She unclasped her mother's necklace and carefully placed it on her bedside table, then folded her uncle's scarf and set it next to the necklace. Not taking the time to bother with her hair, she paused just long enough to grab a wool blanket and a pillow before she dashed back to Jem's room.

Hallways passed in a blur as her feet carried her past countless torches and tapestries before she finally stopped in front of his door. It was still shut. Jinx sighed; she hadn't really been expecting anything different. She sank down to the cold stone and made herself as comfortable as possible.

The night crept by at an agonizingly slow rate. Jem would occasionally cry out loud enough for her to hear his pained voice, but Will's never once accompanied it. Not sure if that was a good sign or not, she only slept fitfully for minutes at a time, not dreaming at all, consumed with dread.

When the screams started sounding continuously she paced up and down the corridor, counting the torches. The monotonous activity helped her cope with the sound of those tortured cries. It also helped keep her from breaking down the door and informing Will she would do whatever she possibly could to help Jem. When she had the number of torches and number of steps between torches memorized, she switched her focus to individual stones, but always lost count soon after she started each new attempt.

Jinx didn't know how long the continuous screams lasted, it could have been minutes or hours; either way, it felt like an eternity. When they finally did stop, they did so very abruptly. She didn't know what to think of that, so she started moving back toward her spot beside Jem's door, hoping for evidence of what was going on behind it.

While she was still a good distance away from it, the door cracked open and Will silently slid out. Jinx quickened her pace, quietly calling out to him. "Will! How is he?"

Will wearily held up a bloodstained hand—the sight made her heart stop beating for a second—to stay off further questions. "James will be fine. He's sleeping peacefully."

Jinx blinked as the realization sank in, then blissful relief replaced her worry and she wilted, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. Will caught her before she completely collapsed and gently set her on the floor, on top of the thick wool blanket.

"You need to sleep, Jinx."

She shook her head in amazement at the concern in his gentle tone. That voice had told her once that this side of Will existed but she had been doubtful. Now that she could finally see it, she couldn't help trying to reconcile it with his usual caustic wit, but for now that was impossible. It would be a formidable task when she was fully awake; now, when exhaustion made it hard to form a coherent sentence, there was no purpose in even trying. "I don't think I'll make it to my room. I'll sleep here."

Will shook his head at her with mild annoyance, but his tone stayed gentle. "No, you won't."

He wrapped the wool around her and picked her up, making sure to grab the pillow as well. Jinx was too tired to protest or even be surprised.

The walk to her room was made in silence, the soothing rhythm of Will's steps almost putting Jinx asleep.

It must have put her to sleep, for the next thing she knew was the sound of someone knocking on a door. She lay on her bed and blearily blinked up at the ceiling of her bedroom. _How did I get here?_ Then all the memories from last night rushed back at once. Her eyes slipped shut again and she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and ignore the world for a while.

"Jinx? Are you awake?"

Her eyes flew open wide at the sound of that voice. "Yes, I'm coming!"

She hurriedly untangled herself from the wool blanket and set her feet on the stone floor, instantly jerking them back up to the bed. "Damn, that's cold!"

Will must have taken her shoes off when he brought her in.

Jinx shook the thought out of her head and braved the freezing cold floor, crossing the room to throw the door open and absently noting that her waist-length hair had come loose from its pins at some point.

Jem stood outside her door, smiling brilliantly. He wore only loose trousers, shoes and a shirt that wasn't even tucked in, but she didn't care about that. All that mattered was his eyes. They were gray once again, almost as dark as she'd ever seen them, and he actually had a tinge of natural color in his face.

Without even stopping to think about it, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He seemed too surprised to react and she panicked briefly—what if he'd told her he loved her only out of delirium?—but then he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the floor, laughing quietly.

"Good evening and happy Christmas to you, too, Jinx."

She pulled back a bit to look at him. "Evening? I slept through the day?"

Silver eyes sparkled at her. "So did I. You're the only person who knows I'm awake." The sparks suddenly left his eyes and he became serious as he lowered her back to the floor. "There's something I have to tell you. Something I should have told you long ago."

Jinx reluctantly released her grip on him. "Are you all right?"

He smiled grimly. "As good as I can be."

Suddenly worried once more, she walked back into her room and, waving him in, settled herself back on the bed. She sat cross-legged and hid her bare feet underneath her skirt, hoping it would help warm them up. Her stomach grumbled angrily at her as she made herself comfortable; she puzzled over it for a moment, then realized she hadn't eaten anything since yesterday's midday meal. But she pushed that thought away. At this moment, Jem was more important. "I'm listening."

Jem hesitated, still standing outside the door, and she sighed. _Ever the gentleman._ Jinx waved him over more insistently, patting the spot on the bed beside where she sat. "Come here, James. No one's going to see us, much less think anything of it. And there's nothing to see, anyway. We're just going to talk."

He nodded, reluctantly acknowledging her logic, and stepped into the room; his long fingers caught the edge of the door as he moved past it, making it swing shut behind him. "I owe you an explanation, Jinx," he said as he sat beside her on the bed. "I—" his voice broke, and he started again. "My parents ran the Shanghai Institute; you know that much. And you know I lived there until I was eleven." Jem abruptly broke off again. "I'm sorry, it's been a couple years since I've spoken of this."

Jinx stared. She'd never seen him like this before. He wasn't even looking at her; his gaze was focused on the floor, and it was troubled. She spoke gently. "You don't have to tell—"

"Yes, I do." Jem shook his head to refute her, finally meeting her eyes. "I told you my parents were killed by a demon but I did not tell you the entire story. I kept certain details hidden out of selfishness and that was unfair to you."

Despite her confusion, she returned his gaze steadily and reached out to slip her hand into his. "So tell me now."

Jem smiled, briefly looking like her best friend once again, before he started telling his tale. He began with his mother's history with the demon _Yanluo_ and finished with his arrival in London, with her listening quietly all the while. Jinx couldn't help but flinch, hating the being that inflicted such intense pain upon him, when he described the hallucinations he'd endured while the thing tortured him. She squeezed his hand, silently offering meager consolation whenever he faltered; she got the sense that he had not told anyone such a detailed description of the event since it happened. The Silent Brothers had learned all of it, of course, but they had access to his memories. He hadn't been forced to _verbally_ describe everything.

They sat in silence for a short while after he finished. Thoughts swirled through Jinx's head as she struggled to accept one particular detail. "You're poisoning yourself in order to survive?" the question came out as a whisper, sounding strangled even to her ears.

Jem nodded. "I didn't tell you before because I didn't want you to look at me the way most everyone else does."

Jinx closed her eyes and shook her head, confused again. "What do you mean?"

He turned an expression on her that she knew was as close as he would ever get to bitter. "When they see me, they see only the illness, the incurable addiction that is killing me. And I honestly don't care what they think of me…but I do care what _you_ think. Whenever you look at me, Jinx, you see me. I didn't want that to end. I didn't want to you see what everyone else sees. They see my greatest flaw, my weakness; I did not—_do_ not want to see that contempt and pity in your gaze."

She met his gaze determinedly. "You won't." Jinx leaned toward him, trying to make sure he knew she meant every single word. "I will _never_ look at you like that. You are not that addiction and you are most definitely _not_ weak. You're strong enough to still care for people, even though you know better than most the pain it can cause. You're the strongest person I've ever known, James Carstairs, and nothing will ever change my mind about that."

He smiled that brilliant smile that lit up his entire face, and his eyes finally started sparkling at her again. Then he kissed her. Gentle and sweet, not near as passionate as the last kiss they shared, it still sent a thrill coursing through her. He pulled away after a moment, breathing slightly faster than he had been before.

"Thank you," he whispered in that smooth voice she loved so much.

Jinx made up her mind, then and there, and didn't give it another thought before she voiced her decision. She'd been thinking about it ever since they first met and finally felt secure in her decision. She looked Jem in the eye, saw his curiosity sparking at her sudden change of mood, and spoke before he got the chance to question her.

"I know you've always wondered about my past, Jem, and I'm sorry I haven't told you much about it. But I'm gonna tell you now."

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><p><strong>For all my U.S. readers: people in the UK really do say "Happy Christmas". And regarding that rather fiery kiss in the hallway, I am a firm believer that just because a guy (like Jem) is gentle, kind and sweet it does not necessarily make him...uh...<em>tame,<em> if you get my drift ;). In fact, I think Jem is far from _tame_. Cassie Clare just hasn't shown us that side of him yet. And yes, you will be seeing a bit more of Jem's _untame_ side later in this fic.  
><strong>

** Thank you so very much for reading and please, please review! Seriously, clicking that review button will make my day! Probably my entire week, actually!  
><strong>


	11. Scars & Faith

**Author's note:** Hello, everyone! First of all, many thanks to ShadowhuntingNephilim123 for beta-ing this chapter! OK, just to give you a heads up, Jinx's story is long. Yes, I could've cut out some parts; yes, I could've edited it and streamlined it a bit; yes, I could've forced myself to focus a bit more on the main ideas of the story. But you know, I think that if something like this happened in the real world, a girl like Jinx would tend to ramble in some places. She would include those seemingly irrelevant little details. So, basically, this is the first half of how it came out, next week will be the other half, and I don't really want to change it. If you don't like it, leave a review saying why or send me a PM. I'll take the feedback as constructive criticism and consider it the next time I write something like this. Sorry about the long author's note. Without further ado, here's Jinx's story. Please review!

Oh, one last thing. Thank you, BB-chan, for reviewing chapter ten!

**Disclaimer: **Crazy girl owns nothing except crazy fictional girl _very_ loosely based on real crazy girl. Cassandra Clare owns all else.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Scars &amp; Faith<strong>

Jem stared at her. _Where did that decision come from?_

Jinx held a hand up to her mouth, unsuccessfully trying to smother a laugh. Her head tipped forward as her messy curls shook in front of her face, most likely an attempt to hide her mirth.

It wasn't working.

He frowned in exasperation. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," she said from behind her fingers. "It's just that you're looking at me like I suddenly sprouted horns and a tail. I don't think I've ever seen you look quite so shocked before."

Jem closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh. This was one of those times when Jinx transitioned between infuriating and angelic so quickly that trying to keep up made his head spin. He shook his head, opened his eyes, and focused himself back on the more important matter at hand.

"You don't have to tell me," he echoed her earlier words, almost whispering.

Her smile turned sad and her eyes once again expressed the yearning thought _if only_ that never seemed too far away whenever they touched upon this subject. "I know you believe it's possible to love someone without understanding them or knowing anything about their past. So do I. But I also believe love is a choice. It may be consciously made or it may not be, but you still make the decision to love, to keep loving…and to stop loving." Jinx hesitated, looking down at the bed. "There are certain things in my past that might change your mind."

Jem hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her head back and forcing her to meet his eyes. "I love you, Jinx. Nothing will ever change that."

She smiled again, this time not quite so sadly, and hope now shone through her hazel eyes. "Hear me out before you make any promises."

He nodded, acknowledging her wishes, and dropped his hand, but not before he brushed a lose lock of hair away from her face. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, sliding her eyelids shut as she exhaled. Keeping her eyes closed, she began a story that Jem knew no one had ever heard before.

"Well, I guess I should start with my father. First of all, I honestly have no idea how he evaded the Clave. I would tell Charlotte if I did. We lived in a little one-room cabin he built in the Louisiana swamp, about a day's trip from New Orleans. He was…I hesitate to say _insane_ because I'm not sure he was, but he definitely had some bad days and some better days. My earliest memory is one those better days; I was curled up on his lap, almost asleep, and he was telling me a story in his native language. It was an ancient Icāk legend about the moon," Jinx paused here, smiling wistfully at the memory. She shook her head slightly and continued after a moment, but still didn't open her eyes.

"Good days like that were few and far between. Most often, he was…indifferent to me. He didn't seem to care what I did or where I went, as long as I didn't get myself hurt. Whenever that happened, no matter how small the injury, he would fly into a rage, screaming that he had made a promise to keep me safe and that I had to help him keep it, because if he broke it then he had nothing left. I never really understood that, but it scared me when he got that mad, so I became a master at avoiding even the slightest of scrapes and hiding the ones I did get.

"There were days when he just wandered about, not making a sound, as if his mind had somehow left his body behind as an empty shell. Other days he would cry for hours on end. Looking at me renewed the tears whenever they stopped. On others he had a hair trigger on his temper. His moods were unpredictable, at best; I never knew what to expect when I woke up in the morning. My favorite childhood memories are of his good days, when he seemed to miraculously transform into a loving and doting father, the type of parent every child should have at some point. Those were the times when he would tell me about my mother, teach me his native language, tell me stories…those were the days when he was my friend.

"Our life in the swamp was simple. He taught me how to survive off the land: how to hunt and fish, which plants were safe to eat and which would kill me, how to read the land—you see, Jem, every land has its own particular rhythms. Take the time to listen, feel, and learn those rhythms, take the time to give the land the respect it deserves, and it will help you. It will sustain you. I only got those lessons when he had a good day, though; I think he realized he often didn't cook or prepare any type of food other days and I needed to learn how to manage by myself.

"That was necessary because there weren't many other people living nearby. I couldn't go to a neighbor and ask for help when I needed it; I _had_ to learn how to get my food from nature. The few people who did live relatively close were mostly African slaves who escaped from their masters or criminals running from the law. They didn't want to help a crazy American Indian and his son."

Jinx grinned suddenly and laughter crept into her voice. "Sorry, that must sound terribly strange to you. I should probably explain. I didn't wear dresses growing up. At least, not while I lived in the swamp. I wore trousers and shirts like a boy because my father thought skirts wouldn't be practical. And he kept my hair cut off short so it wouldn't get tangled in branches. Oh, yeah, I enjoyed climbing trees in my spare time. I think I started climbing about the same time I started walking; I loved the challenge of seeing how far out on a limb I could walk before falling into the water below. But anyway, on the rare occasion that someone unexpectedly showed up, they mistook me for a boy. Which was probably for the best.

"You remember I told you that I got my first Mark when I was only seven, right? That was one of the worst days my father ever had. When I woke up that morning, I thought it was one of the days when he walked around like an empty shell, so I went fishing. It was a good day for it, too; I don't remember exactly what I caught, I just remember it was one of the best catches I'd ever had. But I made a mistake when I gutted the last one. It wiggled its tail—a lingering reflex, I suppose—at just the wrong moment and jerked the knife out of my hand, and I reacted without thinking. My best knife was falling toward the water and I really didn't want to lose it, so I grabbed for it and ended up nearly slicing my fingers off. I did save the knife, though, so I was proud of myself for that. I returned to our little cabin feeling very proud of myself, even though my fingers were dripping blood everywhere, and I expected to see an empty shell for a father. I was wrong.

"It was one of his bad days when the slightest thing would set off his temper. Just so you know, no matter how angry he became, he had never raised a hand to me. Not once. He still didn't that day, but that voice in the back of my mind told me he came close." Jinx paused again and sighed. "I don't know how to explain this to you, but I guess I'll have to try.

"For as long as I can remember, there has been this voice in the back of my mind, whispering things. Sometimes it tells me what to expect or what to do, it tells me about people I meet and places I go—it's actually saved my life on more than one occasion. It has never, _never_ been wrong. Remember that day we fought the dragon demon? When the monster's tail swung at me from behind and I had no idea it was coming but jumped anyway? This voice I'm trying to describe is what told when me to jump. It talks to me almost constantly, creating this incredibly annoying buzz of chatter in my head that I've actually gotten very good at ignoring. It hasn't spoken to me since last night, though; that's odd."

Jinx frowned as she voiced that last thought, and Jem suddenly realized she wasn't thinking about what she said to him. She was just saying whatever thoughts materialized in her head. He continued to listen quietly, amazed at the trust that displayed.

"Anyway, back to my father. He ranted and raged at me for _hours_ after he bandaged my hand. He kept this wooden box in the corner that I wasn't allowed to look into; he opened it in front of me for the first and only time that day. I still don't know what he kept in there, other than his stele. And I didn't even know what that was, I just knew it hurt like nothing had ever hurt me before. He drew an _iratze_ for my fingers first—no, I don't know why he took the time to bandage the wound—and then he drew the _Sight_ rune on my hand. He forced me to stay still while he drew it, and he said if I would be careless enough to get myself hurt then there was no purpose in trying to hide her world from me. Those were his exact words, by the way: 'her world.' Then he told me I'd never truly be a part of it.

"Good days came less often after that. There had never been a pattern to how they appeared before, but he usually had at least one every month or so. Not anymore. He didn't have one for three months after that day, and then it was another five until the next one, and then another four.

"Oh, we didn't have a calendar, by the way. I kept track of weeks and months by chopping notches into a stick. And I'd never even heard of New Year's, so my year started on the one date I did know: my birthday. And the only reason I knew it was because my father took a trip to New Orleans every year on my birthday to trade fish, meat, and game pelts for supplies. It was the only time he ever left the swamp. Every year, I begged him to let me go with him. I'd never seen more than five people in a group before and I was dying of curiosity about what a city would look like. As he prepared to leave the day before my eighth birthday, he was having one of his good days, so I pestered him to let me go. He always seemed to remember the promises he made on his good days and never reneged on one, not even on the really bad days, and to my surprise, he actually told me I could go with him that year. I remember being so excited. New Orleans seemed like something so grand; I'm not sure I believe it was real until I finally saw it.

"My first view of the city is one I'll never forget. We had slept in the swamp after making our way to the city boundaries, keeping out of sight until morning. I woke up before dawn, waiting anxiously, but not daring to wake him up. We entered the city a few minutes past daybreak.

"There was this little cluster of shops on the edge of the city, supported by a fairly small community. They had everything they needed to survive without venturing into the heart of New Orleans: a general store, a butcher, church, school, doctor, even a baker and an orphanage. Although I think that orphanage served several sections of the city.

"Anyway, the first thing I saw when I stepped out of the swamp was the back of a house, sitting right beside the bakery. The house was only two stories tall; it was a decent size for a house, not too small and not too big, but to me it seemed massive. And the baker's shop smelled _heavenly_. I'd never had bread baked in an actual oven before, our bread was suspended over the fire to cook, and that first taste of fresh baked bread—given out of sympathy for the poor half-breed boy—was _amazing_. I swear that's still the best bite of food I've ever had."

A smile suddenly blossomed on her face. "Oh, it's been a while since I've thought about this. There was a black man, sitting right outside the bakery, beating out a rhythm on an overturned wooden bucket. I was curious, so I went back outside when my father started haggling with the baker. I watched the African play for a while and then he smiled at me and started singing to the beat. I didn't understand a word of it, of course, but that was the first time I heard music. Real music, not just my father chanting an Icāk prayer under his breath. I loved the city from that moment on."

Jinx paused, a wistful expression on her face. Jem felt the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile. She was obviously far away, back in her city, listening to that foreign beat once again, and he wished he could listen with her. He wished he could see that city the way she had seen it, he truly wished he could see everything about that city that had made her fall in love with it.

With her eyes still closed, she shook herself and then continued:

"My father spent hours bartering with the shop owners that morning. I just sat outside the bakery listening to the black man sing. He didn't speak English. He understood it just fine, but he didn't speak it. Those carefree hours with him are my first and some of my favorite memories of New Orleans. But he—I can only assume he had to go back to work, because he left at midday. I never saw him again. And it's so strange; my memory has never been great with sounds, but I can remember every last syllable of every song he sang and every last beat he pounded on that bucket. I can remember that, but I don't even know his name."

A single tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, and Jinx swiped it away without pausing her story. Her voice had thickened, though.

"After he left, I got bored. I was accustomed to the swamp, where there was always something to do, always something to watch. I tried watching the community the way my father had taught me to watch the land, but I couldn't seem to pick up on its rhythms. I didn't yet know how to adapt my methods to fit human patterns. So I started wandering through the streets—idiotic, I know _now_, but I didn't know any better at the time. I learned my lesson quick enough.

"Two very drunk, very _white_ men stumbled out of an alley as I walked past it. One nearly tripped over me. Looking back on it now, I think my Nephilim reflexes are what saved me from getting crushed, but I made the mistake of darting into the alley they just exited to avoid them. I blended myself into the shadows, hoping they would leave, but of course I had their attention now. They staggered back into the alley, searching for me, calling for me to come out. They called me a 'filthy half-breed' and then said they wouldn't hurt me," Jinx let out a bitter laugh here, "and they honestly expected me to willingly come out. I was only eight and wasn't entirely sure what the term meant, but I wasn't _that_ idiotic. I slid down behind an empty crate, slowly enough they wouldn't notice the movement, and didn't so much as twitch after that. Until one of them kicked the crate.

"I think it was more out of frustration than anything else, but they found me nonetheless. One of them grabbed my arm and lifted me off the ground. It hurt, a lot. Not as much as the Mark had but the bruise from his grip lasted a few weeks. Anyway, he threw me toward the main street, probably intending to get me out in the open where I couldn't hide again. And I will never know how he got there in time, but my father appeared out of nowhere and caught me before I hit the dirt. Good thing, too, I probably would've broken some bones if he hadn't.

"He set me down on the street, as gently as humanly possible, and told me to go hide. I just backed off a couple steps and didn't go any further. He shook his head with a smile I'd never seen before, and said, 'you are so much like your mother. Never forget that.' That was the first time he said anything like that to me. The last time, too. He turned back to the two drunks and calmly said, 'you won't treat my daughter like that.' I remember they positively _howled_ with rage before they attacked him. They screamed at him for daring to address them directly, they called him scum, an animal…I was horrified. That was the first day I saw how cruel humans can be.

"They beat him to death, right in front of me. He fought back at first, but they subdued him very quickly. I remember being so shocked. I had seen my father fight off five men at once and come out of the fight without so much as a scratch. And those five had been _sober_. I watched as these two men kept beating him, unable to tear my eyes away, until I knew he wasn't getting up again. Then I ran. It took a few months, almost a year, before I understood why he didn't try harder to fight back. It was so obvious; I should have figured it out sooner. He gave up. He was tired of keeping his promise to my mother…he was tired of yearning for something he could never have again. So he found a way to die without breaking his promise. He could have fought back. But he didn't. He gave up.

"I ran for…I don't even remember how long. I just wanted to get away from those men, away from the city that spawned them—I wanted to go back to my life in the swamp. It wasn't predictable at all but it was simple. I didn't have to worry about mean drunks there, I didn't have to worry about _people_ there. I kept telling myself I would go back to our cabin and find my father waiting for me, that this was just a bad dream and I would wake up any second. As I'm sure you can imagine, that didn't happen.

"I eventually did stop running, but I kept wandering the streets until dusk fell. Then reality set in and I started looking for someplace to sleep. I went around, asking everyone I met if they knew where I could stay for a night, but they just ignored me. They didn't acknowledge me in any way. A few looked at me, but no one ever said a word. Until I asked the local priest. He didn't even ask me where my parents were, he just took my hand, told me he would take care of me, and then walked me to the orphanage. Which was run by nuns.

"I didn't have any idea what was happening until the priest told the nun in charge to keep a close eye on me. Then I heard the first thing that made me wonder just how human I really was: he told her I had 'the Mark of the devil' on my hand. I involuntarily glanced at my right hand when I heard that and it caught their attention. They stared at me, looking downright revolted. Looking back on it now, I guess they had been whispering too quietly for any normal eight-year-old girl to hear. Of course that only reinforced their opinion of my…shall we say, 'questionable heritage.' The nun thanked the priest for 'keeping the community safe' or something like that and herded me into the girls' bedroom. She wasn't even brave enough to touch me.

"And so began my life at the orphanage. In a word, it was…monotonous. The nuns woke us all up at the same time before dawn every morning and our daily routine began. We—there were maybe fifteen or twenty kids living there—we started by getting dressed and making our beds, followed by a small breakfast. Then came our own private school session. We weren't allowed to mix with the other neighborhood kids; their parents thought we would be a bad influence. So we studied in the orphanage and I assume the subjects were about the same. I was considered to be 'slow' because I didn't know how to read or write yet, so I was behind everyone else my age. Well, actually, the nuns didn't believe me when I told them I was eight. They thought I was five or six, so they figured my education was as good as could be expected for a six-year-old half-breed.

"That was where I got my nickname. Apparently right after I arrived, inexplicable little problems started showing up here and there. A door would fall off its hinges if you looked at it wrong, window curtains would billow when there wasn't any wind blowing, desks and chairs would disappear, books got torn to shreds sometime during the night. The nuns called me a 'curse'; the other kids changed it to 'jinx' and it…stuck. I kinda liked it, honestly. It seemed to fit better than Ríona.

"Anyway, midday meal was about as small as breakfast and it was our only break from school, which continued after we ate until late afternoon, when we had about one hour to play in the yard—fenced, of course—before dinner. We all looked forward to dinner; it was the largest meal of the day and we were always starving by then. After dinner, we either had more studies or cleaning or repair duties before bedtime. And once it was bedtime, we were expected to sleep. Nothing else. No talking, no whispering, no lying there with our eyes open, nothing but sleeping was allowed. The slightest little sound would send one of the nuns in to root out the troublemaker and make sure it wouldn't happen again.

"The nuns were very strict. They had their rules and we had to follow them. No questions or exceptions allowed. If we broke a rule, we got a ruler to the back, or hand or shoulder. I was their worst troublemaker. I hated the uniforms we had to wear—that was the first time I ever wore a skirt—and I especially hated the amount of food available. It wasn't because I wasn't getting enough, I didn't—well, still don't need much to survive and I'd lived with next to nothing before, so I could cope with it. But other girls had never had to deal with that. Occasionally I would hear them talking about how hungry they were and I couldn't believe that the nuns knew about this and still allowed it to continue. It made me mad, to be honest with you, so I started sneaking out at night soon after I showed up to find food for them.

"At first I tried going back to the swamp to hunt, but the nuns had gotten rid of my knife and I didn't want someone from the community to find me. Plus I didn't have any way to cook the meat I caught and I knew the girls wouldn't eat half the edible plants I could find. So I wandered the other direction, into the city. I wandered further every night I snuck out and learned how to avoid getting lost very quickly, more out of necessity than anything else. I got good at finding food that had been tossed away for some reason or another that was still fit to eat; sometimes I would sneak into somebody's kitchen and take it fresh. I know, it was wrong, but those girls needed food.

"I met Corentin on one such trip into a kitchen. He was French," Jinx's lip twitched upward in obvious disgust at that word, "and a thief. Apparently I had been 'working in his territory' and I needed to pay for the right. I immediately told him I was an orphan and had nothing to pay him with. Bad idea. He decided I should pay with my talents. He told me I was a natural thief, as if it was what I had been born to do. I didn't much like the thought of that, but I didn't dare correct him. You see, he had a violent streak. He'd slapped me pretty hard across the back when he first found me, just to get my attention. Don't misunderstand me here, he did not have a _temper_. That word implies he lost all sense of reason and acted without thinking. He always plotted, always calculated his actions and the most probable repercussions, he _never_ lost control of himself. Corentin was, in essence, a con artist. And a good one at that. I swear he could talk himself out of any situation. And he could probably sell sand to a Bedouin.

"Since I didn't have any way of avoiding it, a new routine started that night. Days never changed, except for finding different places to hide food and getting creative about giving it to the kids who needed it most without getting caught. Nights were an entirely different story. I spent them with Corentin now, under his harsh tutelage. I figured after living with the nuns, learning how to be a thief from him couldn't be too hard. I couldn't have been more wrong. He used the same general methods they did, he would use physical punishment as motivation for improvement, but he didn't restrict himself to a ruler. And he was deceptively powerful. I mean, Corentin wasn't exactly a…uh…well, to be blunt, he was more on the short side of average height and built like a twig. But he knew the human body inside and out, he knew how to inflict massive amounts of pain without even leaving a bruise. Needless to say, I learned very quickly.

"I learned how to hide my emotions and control my mind, and from that foundation, control my body. He taught me how to completely stop my facial expressions and involuntary reactions, how to create desired expressions and matching posture even when my emotions didn't match them, how to lie without appearing to do so, how best to deceive people. I _despised_ it. But it was the only way to keep getting food for the other orphans. So I helped Corentin. I helped him deceive good people, I helped him swindle life savings out of innocent people who did absolutely nothing to deserve it. But I never did anything to stop him. For one year, I did nothing.

"But, like everything else in my life, that changed. One night as I went to meet him, the realization of what I was doing finally hit me: I was acting just like my father. I'd given up. That thought didn't sit too well, so I vowed then and there to tell Corentin I wouldn't help him anymore. Those were the first words out of my mouth when I saw him. He tried to beat me back into 'my place,' as he called it, but I'd had enough. For the first time, I tried to fight back. And it felt _good._ I was only nine years old at the time, so of course I didn't stand a chance of winning, but somehow or other I managed to catch him by surprise and actually land a punch on him. Right under his eye. It was a good shot and I will never know how I landed it. I think it hurt my hand more than it hurt him, but he still backed away from me after that, gingerly rubbing his eye and staring at me, and then he told me to follow him. Then he just walked away. That _bastard_, he knew my curiosity wouldn't let me stay behind.

"He led me to Chinatown. I'd never seen it before and I wanted to explore, but I couldn't really take my time and soak it in just yet. He led me to a…oh, I don't know what the Chinese call it. It was a type of school, I guess. Corentin didn't even hesitate before entering. I didn't know what else to do, so I followed him in. He was talking to an old Chinese man in Mandarin, gesturing at me, and I wanted nothing more than to turn right back around and leave, but that little voice in the back of my head told me to stay. So I stayed and listened to a conversation that sounded like nothing more than gibberish—no offense, Jem, it's a beautiful language but at that point it sounded like gibberish—then Corentin suddenly stomped over to me and dragged me over to deposit me in front of the old man. His eye was already swollen up and turning purple; he pointed to me then pointed to his eye, jabbering something all the while. That much I understood: 'She did this.' The old man's eyes instantly widened and he held up his hand, palm out, and said something to me.

"'He wants you to hit his hand as hard as you can,' Corentin translated. I thought the old man was crazy, but I knew better than to say 'no' to Corentin, so I did it. And I think I must have broken his hand, because I heard a snap but nothing in _my_ hand hurt. Any more than it had before, that is. I expected the old man to scream or yell or acknowledge the pain somehow, but he didn't. He just nodded and said something else to Corentin before he turned and walked away.

"Corentin looked distinctly satisfied about something, that made me worried, but he didn't translate the old man's parting words. I had to wait until the next night to find out he had told Corentin he would train me in hand-to-hand combat. And I found out the hard way. Corentin took me straight back to the same building, pushed me in and said he'd return in time for me to get back to the orphanage before dawn. I didn't have any idea what to expect. There were five Chinese boys about my age standing in line, staring at me, and the old man from the night before sat at one end of the room. I just stood there trembling until one of the boys walked over and handed me a slip of paper. I don't know who had written the note on it, but it told me to copy every move they made. Then they started going through their maneuvers and I was expected to keep up.

"Starting that night, I learned Chinese kung fu. Please excuse my pronunciation, Jem, and I apologize if that hurt your ears too badly. Anyway, I started another new routine that night. Corentin would take me to Chinatown every other night for my training and the nights I didn't go were business as usual with him.

"I picked up on the fighting very easily—much too easily, in fact. My training masters never allowed much emotion to show, but every once in a while they would look positively thunderstruck at something I did. I never actually won a spar against any of them, but I was faster than they were and somehow I just knew I shouldn't have been able to learn so much so quickly. I'm not even sure _how_ I did it, but soon after the training started, I figured out that if I carefully watched them execute a maneuver once, maybe twice if it was complicated, I could repeat it. Perfectly. And I can still do that, with you, Will, and Charlotte."

Jinx paused her tale again, shaking her head with…reluctance, maybe? Jem couldn't be sure; reading her was so much easier when he could see her eyes. He waited patiently while she tried to find the right words to say something she obviously did not want to admit.

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><p><strong>If you're curious, there's a new URL on my profile for where I found Corentin's name. Thank you for reading and please, please review!<strong>

**For those of you who already read the long chapter, I'm not changing the content of her story any. I'm just changing where the chapter break is placed. The rest of Jinx's story will now be part of chapter 12 and you will see it next week. Until then, please review! Reviews fuel my passion for writing and you will make my day!  
><strong>


	12. Sparks & Storms

**Author's note:** Hello, everyone! I hope you had a good week! If not, hopefully this might help a bit :). Once again, many thanks to ShadowhuntingNephilim123 for beta-ing these two chapters! For everyone who read the long chapter last week, you're going to see some familiar content here. New stuff starts about halfway through this chapter. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, I did not change anything about Jinx's story. I only changed where the chapter break is placed. Oh, and the end of this chapter is why I rated the story T. Since it doesn't get any steamier than the alley scene in COFA, I'm not gonna raise the rating to M. If you think I should, please let me know!

**Disclaimer:** Why do I feel like a broken record? I own nothing, people! No matter how much I would love to own Jem, he is still Cassie Clare's, as is the rest of The Infernal Devices.

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Sparks &amp; Storms<strong>

Jem didn't have to wait long. The words seemed to be coming out in a flood. That was how it was with Jinx, he had noticed. She either said absolutely nothing about how she felt or she said everything; there was no middle ground with her.

"There's no getting around it," she continued her story with a sigh, "even though I kind of hate to admit this. I learned a lot from Corentin. He taught me how to navigate New Orleans—and any other city for that matter, by simply following the same general principles my father had taught me in the swamp. The difference was that my father had taught me how to watch nature and use its rhythms to know what to expect, but Corentin taught me about _human_ rhythms. He taught me how to take someone's facial expression, the way their eyes are moving, their body language, and use that within the context of a particular situation to deduce what they're thinking. He taught me how to guard myself, how to fix my face and body into a blank mask that would make it nearly impossible for someone to read my thoughts like that. Without him I'd probably be dead a couple times over. Corentin also taught me how little words truly mean. Anyone can say anything and make it sound believable. That doesn't mean it's true. Anyway, that routine of alternating nights with him and my Chinese masters lasted for…about five years."

Jinx abruptly laughed, rather nervously, still keeping her eyes closed. "I almost forgot to tell you about the Downworlders and demons that showed up. How did I miss that? Uh, anyway…I could always see them for what they truly were, of course, but Corentin couldn't. The first time it happened, it was a warlock. He had blue skin and black bat wings. I thought I was going crazy. He just walked up to me and started a conversation, for no apparent reason. Corentin saw him but didn't see anything…strange about him. When I said something about the warlock's wings, Corentin just looked at me like he thought I'd lost my mind, and I realized he couldn't see them or the man's rather odd coloring. The first demon that showed up was a Ravener. Not exactly a serious threat, I know, but I was only about nine years old and absolutely terrified of the thing. Corentin only saw a big—well, probably closer to _massive_ dog. He had no idea why I was so scared. A couple days after that, a faerie came up to me and told me I wasn't going crazy, that there was no reason for me to fear the Shadow World so much. I asked him what he meant, and he just stared at me and said, 'don't try to play with me, little angel girl. You will not win.'

"That was when I started wondering in earnest who my parents really were and whether they were even human. The nuns had always treated me like I wasn't human, though definitely never like I was an _angel_, but…I don't know, I guess I just ignored that. It didn't really have much of an impact, for some reason or another. I guess some part of my mind always knew it was only their _opinion_ of me and they could be wrong. But the Shadow World was something different. It was real. It was _tangible_. Of course I couldn't gather much information about this strange new world I could see that other people couldn't—not with Corentin controlling my every move. But he couldn't control my imagination. I came up with the strangest theories and they only got worse as days passed and turned into years.

"In the meantime, one aspect of…uh, _working_ with Corentin did improve: I could fight back now. Thanks to my training in Chinatown, I could stand up to him and have a say in who we targeted. I knew I wouldn't be able to completely avoid hurting people, but at least I could steer him away from those who couldn't earn back what they lost. We kept this routine until I turned fourteen. And then everything changed again."

Silence momentarily ruled the air as Jinx paused again, seemingly fortifying herself to say something she did not want to say. Suspicion crept into Jem's mind and an awful sense of foreboding struck him. _That would certainly explain her aversion to physical contact,_ he thought. _But please tell me he didn't…_

Jinx took a deep breath and continued:

"It started the same way every other night had started for the past six years. I snuck out of the orphanage—which had gotten considerably easier ever since my training started—and went to meet Corentin. I went directly to the alley we always met at, but he was late. That was the first sign that something was wrong; he'd never been late before. I waited for about two hours and got more nervous with every passing second. When he finally did make his appearance, he was drunk. No, not just drunk, he was _sloshed_. As in can't-hardly-walk-or-talk sloshed. I'd never seen him like that before. It was strange; he always valued his control too much to get drunk. It had _never_ happened before. Ever. So, I didn't know what kind of a drunk he was. I didn't have any idea how he would act. I didn't try to get away from him, even though that voice told me to. I should have listened to it. I should have ran awa—"

Jinx's voice broke. Jem squeezed her hand, silently letting her know she could stop. She cleared her throat, obviously determined to continue.

"I'm sorry, Jem, I've never spoken of this before, to anyone. He—" her voice broke again, and she took a shuddering breath. "H-he tried to rape me. No, he didn't…succeed. He cornered me in the alley and ripped my dress open. There was this knife he always carried around with him; he took it out and started slicing at me. I was…frozen. For some reason I could not force my body to fight back. Not until he did this." Jinx nodded to her right arm and pulled her sleeve up to show him the scar he had found after her first breakfast at the Institute. This was the first time Jem got a good look at it and he could finally see just how bad the cut must have been: the scar started at her wrist and curved up her forearm to end just before her elbow; the mar was puckered, rough, distinctly lighter than the rest of her skin—he shuddered to think of her having to endure such pain.

"I don't know why I didn't fight back sooner," she continued. "I guess the pain is what forced me into action. I don't remember much about the fight, all I remember is somehow ending up with his knife in my hand. I killed him, Jem. I don't even remember how, just that my hands were literally covered in blood, mine and his, and I remember seeing him lying motionless in the alley and not feeling the least bit of remorse for it."

A tremor passed though Jinx's body and Jem couldn't take it anymore. He reached for her and pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly and hoping to help chase the memory away. She didn't even try to resist. But she didn't cry either. They sat in silence for a minute or two and Jem fought the rage welling up within him. He'd suspected rape, but to hear her say it…all he could think was that it was a good thing Corentin was already dead.

The shudders stopped racking Jinx's body after a short while and she continued her tale:

"I didn't go back to the orphanage after that. In fact, I never saw that orphanage again. I went to Chinatown, to my master's school. I didn't—well, still don't speak any Mandarin, but I knew they would help me even though I couldn't explain what happened. Though there were probably enough clues in my appearance for them to figure it out. The head master of the school—the old man I met on my first trip to Chinatown—took me to his healer and that's all I remember from that night.

"Ever since then, I've been scared of letting anyone get close to me, emotionally or physically. I was never particularly fond of Corentin, but I'd had a certain amount of trust in him. No matter how badly he beat me, he had never tried to…violate me like that before. Even back then, I knew he could have tried before I learned how to fight him off, and he wouldn't have had much resistance to deal with. Some part of me had—has always been grateful for that. But now that I was capable of fighting off an attack, I swore that it would never happen. Nobody would ever get close enough to hurt me like that. I wouldn't give them the chance. Every time someone's touched me since that night—just a light tap on the shoulder will do it—I've taught myself to not think about, not give them an opening, and just fight. It's become more of a reflex than anything else. That's why I'm so…jumpy, I guess, whenever you or anyone else here touches me. And that's what sparked what happened after the…uh…whip incident.

"Anyway, I lived in Chinatown, with the head master's family, for a few months while my arm healed. I'd never spent more than a few hours there at a stretch and had never seen much more than the inside of the fighting school, so those months weren't near as boring as they would've been if I'd gone back to the orphanage. I already knew the rhythms of New Orleans, but now I finally had the chance to learn about Chinatown. The two are distinctly different. It's amazing how much you can learn about a culture just by taking the time to watch.

"At first I was afraid communication would be impossible, but soon after I arrived I learned that my training master's son spoke a smattering of English, so we did have a way to communicate with each other. They knew Corentin was a masterful liar and they knew I was his apprentice; that made them understandably wary of me. Add that on top of my unnatural fighting capabilities and they really didn't know what I could possibly be, much less what to think of me. In those months I lived with them, I thought they'd started trusting me a bit more ever since I came to them for help, but I didn't know how fond of me they had become until the day I left. I hadn't even been planning on leaving. My arm was healed as good as it was going to get, so I decided to spar with the son who spoke a bit of English to see how much of my training I'd lost in those inactive days of waiting for my body to heal. Which I _loathed_. With a passion. Yes, there was a lot to watch, a lot to take in in Chinatown, but I don't like having absolutely nothing to do.

"But going back to the spar, there was something different that day, something inside me had changed; everything looked sharper, I reacted faster, I could analyze the situation better…I still don't know exactly what changed, but I ended up defeating a Chinese opponent for the first time. The head master sat at one end of the room and watched the fight; he waved us over to him when it ended, talking to me through his son. I don't remember the exact words. It was something like, 'you have learned all you can from us. It is now time for you to leave. This is not where you belong. Go find your destiny.'

"I burst into tears at that. I didn't want to leave; this was the closest thing to a real home I'd had since I left the swamp. Then the old man said the only thing he ever said to me in English: 'you no liar. You warrior.' I'll never forget how much that meant to me. He believed that I was not born to be a con artist, he believed that I was meant for something better…no one had ever had that kind of faith in me before. I made up my mind not to prove him wrong. There would never be a way for him to know it, but I would _not_ prove him wrong. Somehow or another I managed to cork my tears and thanked them for teaching me the secrets of their kung fu. Then I left."

A single tear finally slipped through Jinx's lashes. Jem gently brushed it off her cheek with his thumb as she kept talking.

"As I headed back into the general portion of New Orleans, I vowed to myself I would not return to being a thief and a con artist. I did steal again, but only a few select items: clothes. I knew no one would hire a half-breed Indian girl in Chinese clothes for any job I was willing to do, so I chose men's clothes to make myself look like a boy. It had worked in the swamp, so why not here? I made sure to find clothes that were too big so they would still work in case I had a growth spurt. Which obviously never happened. You remember that sailor's cap I wore the night we met? That was the hardest item to find. I knew I needed something that would hide my hair and still help me blend in. Nothing I got my hands on worked. I actually considered cutting my hair for a while, but then I wandered down to the docks, found that cap, and it was just _perfect_. With my disguise complete, I managed to find a job working in the port helping load and unload cargo. It was hard work and I barely earned enough to feed myself, but it was the first honest job I'd ever had. I loved it.

"But it did have a downside. Demons, for some reason, were drawn to the docks. I guess it's because they could cause mischief without drawing too much attention to themselves. I witnessed more demon-caused accidents than I care to remember. At first I tried to warn people, but no one else could ever see the demons. They never understood what I was trying to tell them. By trying to warn them I drew attention to myself, attention I didn't want. So I stopped trying. That actually may have been harder than the job itself. I avoided personal questions as much as possible and managed to keep the men believing I was a boy. I met more Downworlders while I worked there. They always asked me why I was there and then they always left as soon as they realized I didn't know what they were talking about. I guess they thought one less Nephilim acting like a Nephilim was in their best interests.

"I worked there for about a year and a half. I wasn't planning on doing anything else or going anywhere; I just focused myself on staying alive and ignoring that feeling of betrayal I got every time I ran from a demon or didn't warn someone about an attack. The night I decided to leave my city was the night I almost died. Again. I was settling down with a thin blanket behind a stack of crates to get some sleep after a long day and a Raum demon came out of absolutely nowhere and attacked me. I only just barely managed to dodge that first rush. It didn't wait long to try again and it probably would have killed me on the second attempt if someone hadn't left a heavy wrench lying on a crate. If I'd found that any other time, I would've been past annoyed, closer to _enraged_. Working the port was dangerous enough on its own; we didn't need loose tools lying around to slip off crates and break bones. Anyway, the demon rushed at me again and for once I didn't have time to think about it. I grabbed the wrench and swung it at the thing's head. I don't know where exactly I hit it, I just remember it stumbled and howled and that was all I needed. I ran.

"And I had to fight for every step. The urge to go back and finish the job was so strong I almost did. But I was too scared. Something was changing inside me and I didn't know what was happening. I was so scared I wasn't even thinking clearly. It occurred to me that I'd never seen demons or Downworlders in the swamp, so I thought it was restricted to just New Orleans. Absolutely ridiculous, I know. But it made sense at the time. So, as much as I loved that city and hated the thought of leaving it, I boarded a ship bound for London the next morning. And the rest you know."

Jem sat in silence after she finished, still holding her in his lap, and let all of what she told him sink in. He'd known ever since they that Jinx had had a hard life, but to hear it firsthand…the feeling was indescribable. It was a strange mix of joy, from realizing she trusted him that much; sorrow, from knowing all the hardships she had been forced suffered through; rage, at her father for giving up and at Corentin for attacking her; respect, for her resilience—there were far too many to name. He could hardly believe that she had dealt with all of that in sixteen years and somehow still managed to preserve so much of her naturally joyful personality.

He hadn't taken much note of their position while she still spoke, but now that she was silent and there was nothing to distract him from it, he found it rather hard to concentrate on anything else. Jinx had her legs curled up underneath the rest of her body; angled slightly, though, so that her hip fit snugly against his thigh and her right shoulder rested against the left side of his chest. He sat at the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, and had his arms loosely wrapped around her. They'd never been in such a…intimate position before.

Thankfully, Jem saw something that helped him divert his attention away from the reaction she was inadvertently provoking in his body.

Jinx was chewing on her bottom lip again and a slight frown furrowed her brows. Jem recognized the signs; he knew there was something else she wanted to say. He waited patiently while she tried to figure out how to say it correctly. _She does have that habit,_ he thought rather affectionately. He had noticed that Jinx didn't like having to repeat herself for clarification, so she took her time and got it right the first attempt.

"There's one more thing I need to explain," she started, then paused. After one more false start, she continued:

"I think I finally understand why my father went crazy after my mother died. I always thought he just didn't truly want to take care of me, but that's not right at all. I never knew what he went through. Still don't, really, but I can imagine it better now. He loved my mother the way I love you. He gave up his entire life, everything he knew, just to be with her. If I had to make that decision, I would choose the same. After she died, he lost what he was living for. He didn't have anything left, other than me, and I probably reminded him of her too much. Honestly, I'm surprised he stayed as sane as he did. I realized that after my uncle's visit. I don't know what changed, maybe nothing, to help me understand that. And I'm not saying my father was right to give up and let those men kill him. But I think about how I'll react when the drug finally kills you, Jem, and I can start to imagine how he must have felt. Losing you…is inconceivable. It will feel as though someone ripped my soul to shreds and hid all but the smallest of pieces somewhere I can never find them. I'm not ready to lose you and I don't think I'll ever be."

Except to look at her scar, his eyes had never wandered from her face since she started her tale and they stayed trained on her for that afterthought. Jem had taken in the highs and lows of her story as they showed in her expressions: the disgust she felt with herself when she explained how good of a liar she was; the bittersweet pain of leaving Chinatown; the intensity of emotion while she described how losing him would feel. As much as those expressions told him, he knew her eyes would have conveyed her feelings more clearly. But she never once opened them. And he had an idea of why, but more importantly: for the first time tonight, he saw uncertainty in her face. At first, he thought that was because she wasn't completely sure about why her father went crazy, but then he realized the truth.

_Jinx doesn't know whether or not I still love her._

"Why would any of that change my mind?" he asked quietly, knowing she would understand what he referred to.

She did indeed. "Because, Jem," she huffed, "I have a con artist's training. I could lie to you and you would never know it. I'm a master at deceiving people. How could that _not_ change your mind?"

Jem smiled, even though she couldn't see it. "You learned all that out of necessity. You said you hated it, but you continued in order to get food to the girls at the orphanage. That's all I need to know. I don't care how good of a liar you are. I trust you."

Jinx sighed and shook her head, obviously not convinced. Jem turned his attention to the other matter at hand. "Why did you keep your eyes closed?"

She hesitated, looking a bit ashamed of it, and her voice lowered to a whisper. "Because I'm a coward. I didn't want to watch your reaction. I didn't want to see pity or horror or disgust in your eyes. I read people, Jem, and I'm damn good at it. The only person I've ever gotten wrong was you. I didn't want to risk it happening again."

Not understanding that logic at first, it took a few seconds for him to figure out what she meant. Then he understood.

For the past three months, Jinx had thought he considered her to be a good friend or perhaps a sister, when in fact those thoughts had never once crossed his mind. Now she thought he had decided to change his mind and choose to stop loving her. Since he now knew words didn't mean much to her, he did the only thing he could think to do that might convince her otherwise.

He kissed her.

That spark of passion she always managed to ignite within him immediately flared, making it hard to keep his control, but he forced himself to keep the kiss tender. He allowed only the slightest touch of that passion to seep in as she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Jem broke the contact after another few long seconds—which seemed like eternity and no time at all—and rested his forehead against hers for a moment as he struggled to get his breathing back under control. Then he leaned away from her.

"Look at me."

She quirked an eyebrow at his soft command. "What if I don't want to?"

Jem shook his head and couldn't stop a quiet chuckle from escaping. _As contrary as always._ "I'll wait."

A crooked smile quirked her lips and lit up her face, the first real smile he'd seen since she described the black man who had introduced her to music. "You would." The smile faded as she hesitated another few seconds, then her long lashes finally fluttered open. He repeated his earlier words as she stared straight into his eyes.

"I love you, Jinx. Nothing will ever change that."

Those stunning hazel eyes—he could think of no other way to describe it—started _radiating_ joy. "I love you too, James."

And then she reminded him that no matter how well he knew her and her habits, no matter how much he learned about her past, she could and would always surprise him.

Jinx kissed him.

Since she had never once initiated physical contact in the relatively short time he'd known her, he wasn't expecting that, not even in the slightest bit. The surprise made his already thin control instantly shatter and he kissed her the way he had wanted to for three months. His arms tightened around her as he felt her fingers thread through his hair, raw desire flaming up within him, and her mouth opened almost shyly beneath his. He pressed his lips more firmly against hers and poured all his pent-up feelings and attractions into the kiss as the hunger he had been fighting to control since he first met her finally escaped and overcame him.

She somehow managed to twist herself around in his lap, putting one knee on either side of him and straddling his hips as that desire took control of them both, her bashfulness apparently gone; her body relaxed against him, warm and willing, completely trusting. As Jem's arms further tightened around her, pressing her soft curves more firmly against his body, he became incredibly aware, almost painfully so, of every move, every little sound she made. She completely overwhelmed his senses. For this brief moment in time, Jinx was all that mattered. The rest of the world disappeared.

He shifted her, laying her down on the bed and moving his body atop hers. He felt her hands slip down to his back, gently tracing the muscles through his thin shirt. Jem had never known a touch so light could feel so good—no, _good_ did not even begin to describe how _heavenly_ it felt. One of his hands trailed down her side to rest on her stomach, and she gasped against his mouth.

Her body suddenly tensed and she broke the kiss, her head tipping back away from him with a sharp intake of breath.

It was the equivalent of a dumping a bucket of ice water on Jem's head.

He threw himself off the bed and hit the floor hard enough to clear his head somewhat. Immediately leaping to his feet, he paced across the room, as far away from her as he could get, and fought to keep himself there, to stop himself from going back to the bed and finishing what he had started. It took all of what little willpower remained intact. He knew if he looked at her his tenuous control would break once again, so he kept his back to her as he fought the flames that still raged.

_What was I thinking?_

The truth was simple: he hadn't been. Jem berated himself for losing control like that; she had just spilled her heart out to him, she trusted him enough to tell him all her fears and everything about her past, and he tried to take advantage of that trust. Now she must think he was no better than Corentin.

"Jem?" her voice was quiet, hesitant.

"I'm sorry, Jinx." His own sounded rough and breathless. "I didn't intend to scare you like that."

A light laugh reached his ears and, not quite believing it, he turned to face her, utterly incredulous at the sound. He instantly regretted it.

Jinx sat on the bed smiling at him, face flushed, lips swollen, loose curls that fell to her waist even more of a mess now, and she looked so appealing at that moment he had to bite the inside of his cheek in hopes that the pain would keep his thoughts in order.

"I wasn't _scared_, James." She shook her head at him as she spoke. "Don't misunderstand me, I appreciate the concern, but trust me, fear was the farthest thing from my mind." Then she ducked her head and focused her gaze on the bed, looking embarrassed about something, and her voice lowered a bit. "I'm ticklish, all right? That's why I gasped."

Jem stared at her as memories slowly swam to the front of his mind, memories of her squirming a bit sometimes when he adjusted a fighting stance, and he realized she was telling the truth.

_She's ticklish. She doesn't hate me._

He shook his head, amazed once again as relief coursed through him. At least he knew there would never be a dull moment with her.

In yet another attempt to clear his head, Jem deliberately looked at the door and forced his feet to move toward it instead of the bed. And he forced the last bit of that thought out of his mind before it had the chance to run away with his imagination. "I think I'd better return to my own room before that happens again."

She crawled off the bed and met him at the door. "That probably would be best."

He paused, his hand on the knob, and looked down at her as she put her hand on top of his. That light touch alone was enough to send a thrill racing through him and he struggled to keep his control intact.

Jinx wasn't helping his cause. She tilted her head back and looked at him through her lashes as she asked one request he knew he could never refuse. "Kiss me again. Just once more."

He leaned down without hesitation and captured her lips in one last kiss.

Just as their lips touched, a colossal thunderclap shook the room. Jinx twisted her head away from Jem with a little cry of surprise, instinctively looking around for a threat, and Jem couldn't help but notice that she didn't jump _away_ from him. She moved _toward_ him when the thunder startled her. He grinned like a fool and wrapped his arms around her, absolutely awed at how much she trusted him.

Jinx turned her face into his chest. Her body started quivering. It took Jem a moment to realize she was actually _laughing_ at herself. He smiled again and pulled her just a bit closer, enjoying the peaceful moment, then he took a step back. She looked up at him, pure delight sparkling in her eyes, and he almost released his hold on her, but hesitated, his desires and logic waging a war within his mind.

Another moment passed before logic surrendered to desires and he leaned down to kiss her again.

_After all, it's just one more kiss._

_What could possibly happen?_

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><p><strong>Subtlety is not my strong suit, is it? Oh well, it's not like I came right out and said he went back to his room and spent the night alone. Or did he...? Either way, you're not gonna find out for a few chapters! In the meantime, please review!<strong>


	13. Puzzles & Hunting

**Author's note:** Yes, I know I said this would be up next Tuesday, but I have a goal. I have finally finished drafting all 20 chapters and revised them all at least once, so I'm going to get this story uploaded and marked as complete before Clockwork Prince comes out. So starting now, chapters will probably come every other day. I realize that you may not read the entire story before CP, but I'm still going to do it this way. This chapter is from a different POV than the others I've uploaded so far and I hope you enjoy my characterization of him!

**Disclaimer:** I OWN NOTHING! I OWN NOTHING! Did I mention I own nothing? Except Jinx, of course.

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Puzzles &amp; Hunting<strong>

_December 27, 1876_

Will whirled around to watch as the Shax demon behind him folded into itself and disappeared, leaking black ichor onto the street all the while. Satisfied that it was no longer a threat, he turned his attention to Jinx as she tucked a seraph blade back into her belt. "Two blows to kill a Shax. Impressive."

She glanced up at him, an impish grin lighting up her face. "Jealous, Herondale?"

"Bored, actually. I could do it with one blow, I just thought you might like the opportunity to test your growing skill set."

Jem stepped out of the darker recesses of the alley they stood in, shaking his head to indicate there weren't any more demons to surprise them. Or maybe it meant something else. "So that Shax did not sneak up behind you?"

Will snorted. "By the Angel, no. I knew it was there just as I knew Jinx would never allow the beast to harm me. I'm much too valuable for that."

Jem shook his head again, but a small smile tugging at his lips belied his apparent irritation; he didn't comment, though, he merely turned his silver gaze to the street that the alleyway emptied onto. Will followed suit, making sure they weren't attracting any undue attention from the crowd of mundanes shuffling along the cobblestones.

It was only the second day past Christmas and everything still had a rather festive air to it. Red and green decorations adorned shop windows displaying cheerful wares that hadn't been sold, occasionally a horse would pass by with a brightly colored ribbon tied into its mane or tail, but the mundanes themselves did not seem to want to be festive this year. They all insisted on wearing drab shades of gray, thereby making the shop displays and faded signs the only color to be seen on the street.

Charlotte had sent the four of them—Thomas waited patiently with the carriage—to this street directly after midday meal to search for the rogue warlock's next suspected location. Only hours earlier, the Lightwoods found the site he had (as far as anyone could tell) used Christmas night; logically enough, Charlotte thought if they found last night's location and the clue that would lead them to tonight's, then they would have a reasonable chance of catching the bastard.

Since none knew what to expect, all three young Nephilim wore their fighting gear, carried numerous weapons, and were heavily glamoured. Jinx had twisted her hair into one thick braid that hung down her back to keep it out of her way as she usually did whenever she trained or fought demons. She also had her Spanish saber, which had been a gift from Charlotte, strapped snugly against her left hip. Other than those obvious exceptions, the three wore almost identical attire.

"Are you sure this street was the one marked?" Jinx asked no one in particular, sounding rather doubtful, and Will didn't blame her for it.

The latest clue that the rogue warlock taunted them with was a map of London with a street marked in red. Gabriel claimed it was red ink, but Will suspected it was blood. It looked too much like rust to be ink. The trio had been wandering up and down this street for hours since they arrived without finding anything important; in fact, the most interesting thing they had found so far was the Shax.

"Positive," Jem answered her query. "But this seems much too busy for the warlock. He tends to gravitate toward less populated areas."

Will saw Jinx shrug out of the corner of his eye.

"Well," she said with a sigh, "let's keep wandering." She turned to Will, a look of mock deference firmly in place. "Unless you have a better idea, most valuable William?"

Will almost laughed. Jinx had a strange way of doing that to him. But she didn't know that and she never would; he had gotten far too good at hiding himself behind scathing retorts. He couldn't stop now, even though he often wanted to. "I can think of quite a few better ideas, but none of them are fit to speak in the company of a lady." He paused, pretending to come to a sudden realization. "Since there are none present, where shall I begin?"

Jinx rolled her eyes. Just then, a mundane rushed past, nearly colliding with her. She leaped away, barely avoiding the impact, and swore quite creatively at the man's back.

Will didn't actually _laugh_, but he did grin at her this time. "I knew I could corrupt you given enough time."

Hazel eyes started spitting angry sparks at him and she opened her mouth.

"Now, now, don't encourage him," Jem gently cut her off before she got the chance to say anything. "Are you all right, Jinx?" he asked, reaching a hand out toward her arm.

_Here it comes,_ Will thought with resignation. Jem's hand was almost there and Jinx would recoil away from it any time now as though it was the tentacle of a Raum demon. She always did that to everyone who touched her, and while he didn't know _precisely_ why she always did it, he suspected she'd been raped at some point. It was a logical enough assumption to make; he'd heard that Native half-breeds in America were treated like scum. Worse than scum, actually.

_And in three…two…one…_

_What?_

Nothing happened.

Jem's hand rested on Jinx's arm and she didn't so much as start at the contact. Will narrowed his eyes at the pair. They stood close together, but for the first time Jinx didn't look scared. She simply stood there, smiling up at Jem with her eyes sparkling, and Jem was looking at her as though she was the center of his universe. The same way he had been looking at her for the past three months.

Will wasn't jealous of the time his _parabatai_ now spent with Jinx. No, he was happy for Jem. He knew James had fallen in love with Jinx and he also knew she reciprocated Jem's feelings—though he didn't think she had admitted it to herself yet, much less admitted it to Jem. James deserved happiness in the short time he had left and, while he'd always seemed to genuinely enjoy every moment of life he'd had before she arrived, Jinx seemed to provide him with _that_ much more joy.

She was a wonderful girl, Will thought; she was sweet and kind but still tough enough to handle the Nephilim life.

And she was amazingly perceptive. Will hadn't been able to faze her very much at all with those sharp words that usually cut everyone out of his life so easily. She did have that Irish temper, though, so he could always get a rise out of her. But she had never given up on him. Every time she stormed away, absolutely furious at something he said, she would take the time to calm down and then she would come back. She wouldn't treat him any differently, either, no matter what he said. Will got the sense that she knew he didn't truly mean most of what he said, though he had no idea _how_ she could possibly know that.

Jinx was a good match for Jem, he decided. They were both oddly perceptive, both incredibly intelligent, and Jinx's powerful emotions and quirky sense of humor seemed to balance nicely with Jem's habitually mild attitude. There had always been a connection between the two; that much had been near painfully obvious to Will ever since the night they met, but there was something different about them today. Something had changed. That connection seemed deeper somehow, stronger perhaps, and Will couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"Whenever you're ready, William." Jinx's slightly impatient voice cut into his thoughts.

Will mentally shook himself and focused his attention back on the matter at hand. "Ready for what?" he asked with a leer.

She only rolled her eyes again before simply turning on her heel and walking away from him.

Jem fell into step beside Will as they followed her. "You really should know better by now, Will," he said with a meaningful and rather amused tone.

Will grimaced. He knew exactly what Jem alluded to. "That was pure luck on her part, nothing more."

Jem raised an eyebrow at him.

Will threw up his hands in exasperation. "Very well, I let her win."

The silver head shook. "Of course you did."

Will decided to let it drop. The truth was Jinx had beaten him in a spar, fair and square. They hadn't used any weapons, it was purely hand-to-hand combat, and Will had given the fight his all.

And she'd still defeated him.

It had started after what Will affectionately thought of as "The Whip Affair". That had proved to be a very entertaining day. He didn't mind the destruction Jinx caused; in fact, he'd been thinking the training room needed to be rearranged for quite a while before then. After they had given up on the whip and hung it safely on the wall, far out of Jinx's reach, Will had reached out to pat her on the back, offer some sort of sarcastic condolences, and he'd barely touched her when she spun around and attacked him.

Will wasn't sure she had meant to. The reaction appeared to be purely reflexive, but he'd still been forced to fight back. If he hadn't she may have killed him. Fortunately for him, she was thinking clearly again by the time she defeated him; unfortunately, everyone who lived in the Institute was present to watch the show. They all watched as Jinx defeated him, though it—thankfully—completely exhausted them both. Neither one had been left with enough energy to walk afterward.

Will knew Jinx should not have been able to defeat him—not because of inherent ability or lack thereof because she was a girl or some other nonsense like that, simply because she did not have the stamina to outlast him. There had been something driving her, something that had forced her to continue when her body came close to reaching its breaking point. It was almost as though she hadn't even been seeing _him_ while she fought him; there was something else in her mind's eye that scared her enough to make her keep fighting.

That was when he started thinking she had been raped. It made sense, at least to him, and it certainly explained why she was so hesitant to trust people. She seemed to have this barrier she built around herself, a wall she hid behind to protect herself from prying eyes and painful words. Will knew about those walls all too well—he had enough of his own, though his were present more for the protection of those he cared for rather than protecting himself. No matter the reason for their presence, those walls generally exhibited the same signs, signs that Will could recognize whenever they showed themselves. But there were always holes somewhere in a guard like that; Jinx's had recently gone a step past holes and had started slipping here and there, allowing all the inhabitants of the Institute to get to know her a bit, though she was still most transparent whenever Jem was around.

_Jinx truly is a strange girl,_ Will mused. Jem had never been interested in girls at all, and then Jinx came out of nowhere and completely ensnared his attentions and affections. She had managed to catch Will's attention as well, though in a different way. There was just something about her, something different and unique that drew in one's attention. And once she had it she didn't let go. There was never a dull moment with Jinx around; she could find a way to laugh at anything—including herself—and she had this vivacity about her that made her unpredictable. Will couldn't find a way to put into words exactly what it was that made her different. He had tried, on several occasions, but it was simply impossible to describe. All he could say for sure was that she was…a friend. As close to one as he had, anyway.

With the exception of James, of course.

And Will had to admit, Jinx was beautiful. Stunningly so. He couldn't honestly deny his attraction to her, but he would never act on it. She was Jem's girl. He would never do that to his _parabatai._

Besides, she was too good for the likes of Will Herondale.

"William!"

Jem's warning shout alerted him just in time. Will ducked under the long wooden pole that jutted out toward his head from a passing wagon, only avoiding the collision by a hair's breadth. He stopped in his tracks, spinning in place to watch as the pole swung above his head, barely brushing his already tangled hair, and he stared after it for a moment. _How did I not see that?_

"You haven't heard anything I've said in the past few minutes, have you?" Jem had stopped beside him and sounded amused.

Will straightened, scowling at him. "Yes, I avoided injury and death, your concern is quite touching, James."

"If you hadn't you would be lying prone on the street."

Jem's matter-of-fact tone made Will shake his head in annoyance. "What fascinating conversation did I miss?"

James glanced at him, looking a bit worried. "You've been terribly distracted today."

A smile threatened to ruin Will's scowl. That was why their partnership worked. Jem never interrogated him; in fact, he very rarely asked any type of question, let alone personal ones. A statement like the one Jem just uttered could be ignored or evaded much easier than a question. Will chose the _evaded_ route this time. "I was thinking about a certain pretty girl. And you didn't answer my question."

Jem ignored the second bit of what he said. "Please tell me you are not referring to Gabriel's sister," he said with a slight groan. "What did you do to her at the Christmas party, anyway?"

"Absolutely nothing." _Thank you, James._ He had just provided Will with the perfect story to tell.

Jem glanced at him again, silver eyes narrowed. He obviously was not convinced.

Will momentarily became serious as memories of that night returned. "Jinx interrupted me before I could do anything." His mind was inexorably drawn to how close he came to losing Jem that night, but he refused to dwell on the memories. Considerations of what he would do without James didn't bear thinking about. Forcing his grin back into place, he adopted a cheerful tone. "I'll have to commit my scandalous deeds next year."

Jem shook his head in resignation. "Gabriel and Gideon will never forgive you—"

"I think I found something!"

Both boys immediately focused on Jinx. She stood at an intersection just down the street, staring at something behind them. Since she didn't seem inclined to say anything else, they glanced at each other, shrugged, and walked up to her. Her attention never wavered from whatever it was fixed on. Jem stopped on her right and Will stood to her left; they shared another meaningful look over her head—amused this time—before turning to follow her gaze down the street.

Will didn't see anything new.

Neither did Jem, apparently.

"What is it?" the silver-haired boy asked, frowning slightly.

"This street was marked in red, correct?" Jinx looked to Jem for clarification.

"Yes," Will answered. "Blood, to be exact."

The petite girl gestured down the street. "Look. Of all the shops, of all the specialty stores on this street, only three have red signs."

Will dubiously studied one sign in particular. "I don't think that qualifies as red."

"It was red at one point. Now let me finish. The compass rose on the map was also marked, if you remember, but only on the north-south line. When you combine those two and go in a roughly north-to-south direction, take the first letter from that red sign down there, _Hicks Tailoring_, and then the first letter from the next, _International Stamps_, and finally this last, _George's Bed & Board_."

"_Hig_." Will smirked at her. "Yes, that makes everything perfectly clear. Now we know exactly where the warlock went. How do you know it wasn't meant to be south to north? The message could be G-I-H."

Jinx didn't even take the time to glare at him before continuing. "I'm not done yet. Now take the second letter from the second word on each sign. So that's an _A_, a _T_, and an _E_. Stick those three letters on the end of the first three and you get—"

"Hig ate?" Will couldn't resist. "Or is it G-I-H-E-T-A?"

This time she did glare at him. "_Hi gate_, you filthy—"

"It seems like a slim lead," Jem smoothly interrupted, "but it's the best we have. Shall we go to Highgate, then?"

Without any further ado—but with a not-so-complimentary grumble from Jinx directed at Will—they returned to the carriage, where Thomas still waited for them. Jem told him their destination as the three Shadowhunters climbed into the confined space and settled on the velvet-backed bench seats. The rattling trip was made mostly in silence; Jem and Jinx sat together on the seat opposite Will, giving him an opportunity to study them. He still didn't know what had changed between the two and that bothered him.

Will watched them carefully, occasionally turning his attention to the passing streets to make sure they didn't suspect the scrutiny they were under. The going was very slow; all the mundanes in the city seemed to have crowded themselves onto the streets today, forcing most all traffic to a near stand-still. Nobody attempted to make conversation as the Nephilim traveled to their destination. And Will could see absolutely nothing different about Jinx or Jem to indicate any specific change.

He was on the verge of questioning them about it when Jem casually slid his hand over Jinx's where it rested on the seat, intertwining their fingers, and Will suddenly realized what had changed. If pressed for a reason _how_ he knew, he would not be able to provide a single one, and yet he knew without a doubt what happened.

They had finally admitted their feelings for each other.

And he wasn't as sure about this part, but he thought they may have shared a night together.

For a brief moment Will was tempted to say something about the latter, just to see if he was right, but he refrained. Jem was his best friend and in her own way, Jinx was a friend as well. The only two he had. Yes, Jem had always forgiven him before, but he'd never been faced with this type of situation before. Will had no idea how they would react to being charged with such…_highly _inappropriate behavior. And contrary to popular belief, William did in fact have a heart, so even though he would never say it, he was happy for them. Jem and Jinx seemed to have found something in each other, something special and rare, something that only comes along once in a lifetime.

Will did not want to ruin that.

But he did have a reputation to maintain.

"Have you two finally admitted you're both hopelessly romantic sops?" he asked with a lopsided smirk.

Jinx glanced at him, then flicked her gaze back to the window just as quickly. There was something in her eyes that caught him off guard—it was almost as if she knew what he was doing. But that was impossible. Although he had let his guard slip a bit the night of the Christmas party. Not _that_ much, though. Not enough for her to figure him out. She couldn't possibly know.

_Could she?_

"I told her I love her, if that's what you mean."

Jem's matter-of-fact declaration hit Will as hard as that wooden pole would have earlier. He had been expecting to hear that, of course, but actually hearing it was something entirely different.

Momentarily stunned, Will turned his attention to Jinx. "And what did you do? Merely slap him for his forwardness or attack him outright?"

Jinx's gaze never left the window. "I…returned the sentiment."

"_Returned the sentiment?"_ Will repeated incredulously. "Bloody hell, please tell me you two are better at this when you're alone."

A vivid scarlet blush instantly colored Jem's face and Will couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw Jinx's ears turning a bit pink. His smirk instantly widened into a grin, but the carriage lurched to a sudden halt before he could say anything.

"I thought you might want to start your search somewhere fairly isolated," Thomas explained from the driver's seat as they climbed out of the carriage and stared at their surroundings. Will had been to Highgate before, of course; shades of people buried nearby in mass graves during the Great Plague were angry for the lack of a proper burial and still haunted the area to exact their revenge upon humanity. Their actions had brought Will here many times. But he had never once seen this particular section.

Dilapidated houses that had obviously been abandoned years, perhaps decades ago stood in neat rows down the rough cobblestone street. Nothing else about the scene was even close to neat. Tangled weeds sprouted in walkways and once exquisitely manicured gardens; fences lay in jaggedly broken pieces scattered everywhere; paint chipped off walls and those made of brick crumbled before their eyes; most of the roofs had caved in at some point; windows were broken, shattered glass shimmered wherever one looked; shutters and doors alike hung ajar. There were no gaslight lamps along the street, and even if they had been present they most likely would have been dark. Dusk had fallen during their trip across the city and the moon had yet to rise, leaving sparsely scattered stars to provide the only natural light available. A chill passed through the air, accompanied by an unearthly howl from somewhere nearby.

Will thought the scene was rather eerie.

All three Shadowhunters pulled witchlight stones out, flooding the area with bright light.

"Where shall we begin?" Jem asked quietly.

Slight movement in the corner of his eye caught Will's attention and he immediately turned toward it, dropping into a slight crouch and preparing himself for a fight. The street still stood empty. It took him a few seconds to locate the source of the motion and what he saw baffled him for a moment.

A fair distance down the street, smoke curled up into the air, lazily drifting from a severely leaning chimney. Somehow the chimney had managed to stay attached to a crumbling brick house—which should have been deserted.

Will lowered his voice. "Unless that's a shade with a nastier sense of humor than mine, I believe we may have found our warlock."

The other two turned toward him. He nodded to the chimney, but kept his eyes focused on them to gauge their reactions. There was only one explanation he could think of for this and he wanted to make sure they were thinking along the same lines.

Jinx frowned and her eyes became slightly unfocused as her attention shifted to something in her memory. "How did Gabriel find that last location?"

Jem doused his witchlight as he answered. "He found a Drevak while he 'patrolled the streets'—his words, not mine—and killed it just outside of an abandoned tavern. As he left he caught the scent of blood coming from inside and investigated."

Jinx and Will followed Jem's lead and extinguished their witchlight, plunging the hair-raising scene back into darkness.

"So he didn't find it by following the trail of clues?" Jinx stated more than asked.

Will glanced at Jem and their eyes met. All three had come to the same conclusion.

That smoking house down the street was not_ last_ night's location.

With a manic grin firmly in place, Will said, "This is obviously our lucky night. Shall we?"

Jem immediately looked alarmed. "William, we don't know what that warlock is capable of. For all we know he could kill us with a mere wave of his fingers."

"We also do not have time to alert the Enclave," Will said seriously, and then forced his arrogant smirk to slip back into place. "They would only slow me down, anyway."

Jem opened his mouth to argue, but Jinx cut him off.

"He's right, James." She was once again focused on the brick house, eyes clear and determined.

Will had seen that look before, when she had challenged him to throw his worst at her three months ago; come to think of it, he'd also seen it every time he introduced her to a new weapon. And then there was the dragon demon incident, which nearly got them all killed, but she still hadn't backed down from the challenge. He and Jem both knew that once she got that look, there would be no changing her mind.

"We don't know how long he stays in the sites he uses," Jinx continued. "He could have already left this one behind. And as much as I hate to admit this, much less say it for a second time" she glanced at Will, "he's right. We don't have time to call for help."

Jem glanced between Jinx and Will before he nodded his consent. "Very well, but do not take any undue risks."

Will's smirk returned to a grin as he drew a seraph blade. "Now, James, when have you ever known me to do that?"

Ignoring the comment, Jem drew his own seraph blade and they whispered names in unison.

"_Malik."_

"_Sanvi."_

The blades instantly flared with soft light, painting the abandoned houses with an otherworldly glow. Will glanced to his right to see that Jinx had chosen to use her light Spanish saber, probably preferring the long reach it gave her. She had proven to be quite adept with that particular weapon, so Will couldn't fault her choice. Of course Shadowhunters generally preferred using seraph blades against warlocks, but the twisting runes that almost completely covered the steel offered Jinx a weapon nearly as powerful as a seraph blade.

Before they started moving toward the house, Jem turned to Thomas and started to tell the big mundane something, but Thomas waved him off.

"I know," he said as he settled himself more comfortably on the driver's seat. "I'll stay here and keep watch. But if you take too long to return, I just might come after you."

With that matter settled, William took point as they ghosted down the street, none making a sound. Jinx walked two steps behind him and a bit to his right while Jem filled the duty of rear guard, maybe three steps behind Will and slightly to his left. Those two periodically scanned houses as they passed, looking for possible surprise attacks, and checked behind them as well, allowing Will to focus his complete attention on their target. Which he probably would have done even if he was alone. But it was comforting to know that they would alert him of any rear attacks.

The street narrowed as they drew closer to the house and a sharp odor abruptly pierced Will's nose.

"What is that smell?" Jinx whispered in a disgusted tone.

"Did you ever notice the faint stench that clung to the other locations?" Jem responded, just as quietly.

Even though he didn't turn to look at her, Will could just see Jinx roll her eyes at Jem.

"It was rather hard to miss, don't you think, James?"

One corner of Will's mouth tugged upward. He had guessed correctly; her tone was too sarcastic for one of her eye-rolls not to accompany the comment.

"This is that smell when it's fresh." Will could hear the smile in Jem's voice, but it abruptly vanished as he continued his explanation. "Black magic, when limited to the power of a human being, becomes as dark as it possibly can when a warlock attempts to summon Greater Demons. The air revolts, in a way; something so pure does not mix well with something so destructive. The clash between those two opposites produces this scent."

Silence settled upon the trio as they finally made their way up the weed and debris strewn walkway toward the double front doors of the sprawling brick structure. All three were on edge, not sure what to expect. The thick wooden door on the right stood ajar; Will gave it an experimental push and it swung open easily on greased hinges. He trusted Jem and Jinx with his life, however little its value may be, so he didn't even glance back at them before easing into the entryway.

This was one of the few houses on the street with a completely intact roof, making the interior pitch-black, much darker than the street had been. In the light of his seraph blade, Will could see that he stood in a large foyer with a double staircase curving upward on either side of the room. The far recesses of the entry were lost in shadow. A once pristine marble floor was now cloaked with thick dust and laced with deep cracks, giving Will the impression that he stood upon the aftermath of some great and terrible battle that had torn through everything in its path.

Will moved silently and quickly along the front wall to one side of the foyer, where an empty arch stood in the interior wall; he paused before he moved in front of the opening, keeping himself hidden behind the wall, and glanced into what had most likely been a parlor. Seeing nothing threatening, he turned to continue toward the staircase and the section of foyer lost in shadow. He stepped in front of the arch—

A sudden flash of red sparks flew at him from within the parlor. Will reacted faster than any mundane ever could, twisting away and throwing himself toward the floor to avoid the fiery lights, but even he wasn't fast enough. He watched with a peculiar clarity as they moved closer and knew he was incapable of avoiding the spell it undoubtedly was.

Will quietly accepted the inevitable. After all, it was bound to happen someday.

_I'm sorry, James, for never telling you why I do what I do. Don't grieve too long…I'm not worth it._

The sparks kept coming closer, and Will closed his eyes. _I wonder if I'll see my sister—_

Before he could even finish the thought, something thudded against his back, hard enough to push him away from the oncoming magic. Unable to cushion his fall, Will's body connected with the marble floor with enough force to knock all the breath from his lungs. He managed to keep a hold of his seraph blade—until his head hit the bottom step of the staircase, stunning him, and then the blade flew from his grasp. Stars exploded behind his eyes and he suddenly couldn't see anything, but vaguely heard something—no, some_one_ hit the floor where he had stood mere moments before. A second thump sounded slightly farther away and was immediately followed by light footsteps as a fourth, unidentified person calmly walked up to the three Shadowhunters.

Will couldn't move. There seemed to be a disconnect between his mind and body; he tried to run his hand along the floor to find his lost seraph blade, but his fingers hardly twitched in response. _Damn and blast it all! Where is my blade?_ Just the effort it took to think made the room seem to pitch and roll like a boat in the middle of an violent ocean storm, though Will knew they were still on solid ground and he hadn't moved at all.

"Foolish Nephilim," a cold voice Will didn't recognize hissed quietly, sending chills up his spine, and then silence once more reigned the night as the barely discernable footsteps faded away.

Will kept himself still for a few seconds, waiting for the room stop spinning before he attempted to move again. Once the house became reasonably steady, he pushed himself to his feet, only to have a wave of dizziness overcome him and threaten to send him back to the floor. He swayed a moment, allowing the floorboards to settle, before taking a staggering step toward the door, that small movement enough to induce vertigo again.

Shaking his head in hopes of clearing it, Will focused his attention on staying upright; he didn't have any time to waste, he had to get to them. He had to check, he had to make sure they weren't…he couldn't even bring himself to think the word.

_James, Jinx, please be alive!_

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><p><strong>First of all, I honestly have no idea if Will's sister is alive or not. I'm just guessing she's dead. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my characterization of Will. And yes, I'm leaving you with another cliff hanger! I'm getting good at that, aren't I?<br>**

**Please, please, please review! Even if it's just to say I suck at writing our dearly beloved William Herondale! I really don't care, just please click that little "Review" button and make my day!**_  
><em>


	14. Fables & Friends

**Author's note:** I would say Happy Monday, but...well, it's a Monday. And I currently have no inspiration for a note today. Other than to give a friendly reminder that chapters will now be coming every other day. So, without further ado, here is chapter fourteen!

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, Jinx is still all I own. I'm willing to lend her to you, if you wish, but please don't steal her. Oh, and did I mention that Cassandra Clare owns The Infernal Devices?

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><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: Fables &amp; Friends<strong>

William's thoughts cleared with each stumbling step he took—though his head still throbbed painfully—and the house no longer seemed to tip at extreme angles. The warlock had left the doors thrown wide when he vanished into the night and faint starlight trickled into the foyer through the opening, revealing two lumps on the floor, one distinctly smaller than the other. Will paused by the first lump on the floor, recognized Jinx by her size as well as the thick braid lying on the floor, and knelt by her, rolling her to her back to better see if she lived.

She was still. Alarmingly so.

He couldn't even tell if she was breathing or not.

Guilt washed over him in a powerful wave, shocking him with the intensity of the feeling. _She must have pushed me away and taken the worst of the spell,_ Will thought. _Why did she sacrifice herself—_

Jinx's eyelids fluttered and she let out a quiet moan.

_She's alive!_

Equally powerful relief immediately washed the guilt away and Will almost smiled, but he still didn't know if James…the thought didn't bear finishing.

He crawled to the second lump, moving faster, hope now sparking within him. If Jinx was alive, then Jem most likely would be as well.

Unlike Jinx, Will's _parabatai_ had landed on his back, and his eyes were open.

_Open. Thank the Angel!_

"What happened?" Will asked quietly, his voice hoarse, though he didn't know whether it was from relief or lingering effects of hitting his head that hard.

Jem swung a hand toward Jinx. "She saw the warlock cast the spell at you and pushed you out of the way. Each one of those red sparks must've held some of the magic. There were six; four hit Jinx, two hit me."

Will frowned. Jinx saw the warlock and he still let her live? That didn't make any sense. Maybe she didn't get a good look at his face. _Or maybe the spell kills very slowly._ "How do you feel? Do you know what the spell does?"

Jem nodded. "It paralyzes. I can't feel my legs. Don't overreact, William, I'm fairly certain it's only temporary. And it's only in my legs. The warlock was probably making sure we couldn't chase him."

"What makes you think it's temporary?" Will asked, somehow managing to speak past the sudden lump in his throat.

"My toes hurt. They were completely numb a moment ago." Jem nodded to Jinx. "She took a worse hit than I did. I'll be fine. Go check on her."

Will shook his head in amazement. Did nothing bother Jem?

He moved back to Jinx's side and shook her gently, trying to wake her up. Her eyes finally opened, but they were unfocused, sluggish even; she seemed to look _through_ him rather than _at_ him.

"Wha—what happened?" Her voice sounded worse than his.

Will forced a grin back onto his face. "You saved me from a spell. I never knew you cared so much, Jinx. Don't worry; no one will blame you for it. It is rather difficult not to care for me."

She blinked once, slowly, then shook her head as her eyes regained some of their usual brightness. "Don't count on it happening again."

"Are you all right?" The query came from James, who had managed to drag himself closer.

Jinx nodded. "I think so. Can't feel anything below my waist, though."

Will felt his smile soften a bit. Jinx didn't sound any more worried about that revelation than Jem was. Those two were definitely a good pair.

Despite Jinx's nonchalant attitude, Jem's tone became reassuring. "It should only be temporary. Feeling's already beginning to return to my feet; you took more of a direct hit from the magic, so it will take longer for you to recover, but we both should regain complete use of our legs."

"But for now we have a bit of an enigma," Will felt it necessary to state the obvious. "You two are obviously not going anywhere and we all have to get back to the carriage. There isn't room for Thomas to drive it up here and turn it around, and we don't know if there are any other streets close by that he can use. And I will most certainly not be carrying the both of you down there."

"Carry Jinx to the carriage," Jem suggested. "Then bring Thomas back to help with me."

Will paused, his memory jumping back to the whip affair for a moment; he didn't particularly want to scare her that much again. After another second he shrugged. "Seems logical enough." If Jem suggested it, Jinx probably wouldn't mind. She hadn't protested yet, anyway.

He turned to Jinx and slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back, then gave her a cheeky grin. "Try not to enjoy this too much, love."

She ignored that comment, looping her arms loosely around his neck and tightening her grip slightly as he struggled to his feet. Will's earlier vertigo returned with a vengeance and he closed his eyes, trying to fight it, stay upright, and not drop her all at the same time. He found it oddly challenging.

"Are you all right?" Jinx asked.

"Thanks to you," he responded without opening his eyes, "I now have a devil of a headache. You did not have to shove me quite so hard. Luckily for you, I'm in a gracious mood. I will help this damsel in distress, even though she very nearly killed me."

Jinx didn't answer. He opened his eyes again, glancing at her to make sure she was still conscious. Her eyes were closed again, for some reason he didn't want to try to figure out, but she was definitely still conscious. He then turned his attention to the door and the street beyond. As he forced his reluctant feet to move in the proper direction, the vertigo receded surprisingly quickly and his steps soon regained most of their usual rhythm.

Once Will reached the street and turned to make his way back to the carriage, he couldn't help but notice something rather strange: Jinx was remarkably relaxed against him, not tense at all. He sent her a sideways glance. "Aren't you afraid I'll violate your honor?"

That little chit, all she did was grin. "Not at all." Her tone turned serious; his surprise must have shown on his face. "I'm Jem's girl. You wouldn't do that to him."

_She trusts me._

That was an unsettling realization. She wasn't supposed to trust him; she was supposed to be horrified of him, disgusted even. She was supposed to positively _loathe_ him. What could possibly be telling her to trust him?

Will knew Thomas would be keeping careful watch from the carriage, so he slowed his steps slightly. He had to take advantage of this time alone with Jinx while he could. This girl had confounded him from the moment he first laid eyes on her and he _would_ get answers from her.

And he may as well start with the easiest question to voice.

"Why did you push me?" he asked quietly. "That spell could have killed you."

"It could have killed you, too," she retorted sharply. Then her voice softened. "You're Jem's _parabatai_, his best friend. He'd never recover from that."

After years of swallowing the words he wanted to say, they stuck in his throat for a moment, but he forced them out. He had to know; he had to understand at least part of her reasoning behind what she said and did. "What about you, Jinx? What makes you think he'd recover from losing you?"

She paused, blinked a few times in quick succession, and then frowned at him. "He's only known me for three months. You he's known for years. Of course he'd have an easier time recovering if I—"

"No, he would not." Will wasn't sure if it was something in his voice or her own shock, but Jinx kept her mouth shut and let him explain. That was one of the things he liked about her. She knew when to keep quiet. "He would _never_ completely recover from losing you, Jinx, because he's never been in love before. Let alone in love with a girl like you."

Jinx frowned again, tipping her head to the side quizzically. "A girl like me? What do you mean by that?"

Will's eyes, wide with shock, flew to meet hers. _How can she not know?_ he silently wondered. _How can she possibly be completely oblivious to the effect she has on those who meet her?_

He stumbled a bit on the rough cobblestones and forced his attention back to the street as he answered her. "I mean someone who can…capture one's complete attention and hold it for longer than a single evening. Someone who constantly surprises the people around her, even the one who knows her. Someone who can find a reason to smile in any situation. You're that kind of girl, Jinx. You're a good match for Jem because of that. And you're just as clever as he is, which certainly helps."

The next words stuck in Will's throat and he almost swallowed them, as he usually did. But he chose not to. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to say what he truly wanted to say. Not without some conscious effort, though. "And you both have this peculiar power to see straight into a person's soul. You can look at someone and see past all of what they say, all of what they do, and focus on exactly what they mean…you can focus on who they truly are." He paused again, not sure he wanted to hear the answer to the question forming in his mind. "What…what made you decide to trust me?"

Jinx started slightly in his arms, as if she hadn't been expecting that. "Well, I did trust you before, in a way. I trusted you in a battle. I knew you would do anything to help me and I knew you would warn me of a coming attack. In those situations, I trusted you with my life, and I still do. I did not trust you with…myself, if that makes any sense. I didn't want to let you get to know me, to get close to me, because I didn't know how badly you would hurt me." She paused delicately, apparently trying to decide whether or not to say something, then continued in a near whisper. "I still don't completely trust you in that way, but I'm beginning to. I think it started the night of—"

"The Christmas party," Will finished for her. He could clearly see the carriage now, as well as a dark shape he assumed was Thomas jump off it and start walking toward them. He lowered his voice a bit and fixed his façade back into place. "I knew I'd regret putting you to bed."

Jinx rolled her eyes at him, convincing him he had effectively ruined that personal mood he'd inadvertently created. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Won't tell anyone what?" he asked with an innocent look.

She smiled at him and lowered her voice enough Thomas wouldn't hear her. "That you actually do care for people."

Will's eyes once again focused on her in complete shock—and he forgot to watch where he placed his feet. The toe of one of his boots caught on the edge of a particularly high stone and he stumbled, struggling to keep his balance and hang on to Jinx at the same time. A large hand grasped his upper arm, stabilizing him, and Will instinctively tightened his grip on Jinx, even as he recognized his savior's voice.

"What happened, Master Will?" Thomas asked.

"We're not exactly sure," Jinx answered. "The warlock attacked us. Will avoided the spell he cast at us, but Jem and I caught the bad end of it. Neither of us can walk."

Will nodded to the carriage. "Help me get Jinx in there, if you would, Thomas. Then we have to go fetch Jem."

Thomas strode to the carriage door and held it open for Will as he climbed in and gently set Jinx down on the seat.

"I must say," Will muttered as he made sure she was comfortable, "you are the most contrary damsel in distress I have ever encountered."

Jinx smiled, shaking her head at him. "Someday, William, you will meet one worse than me."

He sighed theatrically. "Whatever shall I do with her?"

"You'll probably fall in love."

Will froze in place, one foot on the carriage step and the other dangling in midair, and his eyes flashed back up to Jinx. A smile still graced her features, but her eyes were oddly serious, as though she truly believed it would happen.

_She's just trying to lighten the mood,_ he told himself, but couldn't quite bring himself to smile back.

"I can drive it up to the house," Thomas suggested as Will finally stepped back down to the street. "You shouldn't be moving around much with that lump on your head."

Will motioned to the area around them. "This is the widest point of the street. You won't be able to turn around up there."

Thomas shrugged and started walking up the street. Not quite completely recovered from hitting his head on the staircase, Will struggled to keep up with Thomas' long strides. He glanced at the massive mundane, very briefly, before turning his eyes to the street to avoid stumbling again. As they walked along the cobblestones, Will's mind wandered to the memories of living at the Institute before Jem came. Thomas had been the closest thing to a friend he'd had at that time, but he had abandoned the mundane in favor of the Nephilim boy from Shanghai. Will regretted that, he truly did, but it was for the best. He was not worth Thomas' friendship.

Or Jem's, for that matter.

They walked to the sprawling brick house in silence, that stench of black magic becoming stronger with every step. Jem sat exactly where Will had left him, resting his back against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, eyes closed. He looked up at them as they stepped through the door, but no one said a word as Jem draped one arm over each of their shoulders and they easily lifted him with their combined strength. Before they moved out of the door, Will briefly ducked out from under Jem's weight to retrieve the seraph blade he had dropped when the stair nearly knocked him unconscious.

The return trip was equally as silent. As soon as they situated Jem next to Jinx, Will collapsed onto the seat opposite them, pulling out his witchlight stone to drive the darkness from the carriage. Thomas climbed back into the driver's seat and the carriage rattled into motion shortly after that, jostling the three passengers, and they began their journey back to the Institute.

The air inside the carriage was tense, Jem and Jinx once again holding hands but not saying a word. Will stared at them, then out the window, trying to keep his mind from lingering on what Jinx had said to him about falling in love with the next contrary damsel in distress. After what seemed to be an eternity of unsuccessful attempts to avoid the disturbing thought, he couldn't stand the silence anymore. Conversation on _any_ topic must be better than this.

"Which demon do you suppose he's trying to summon?" Will said the first thing that came to mind.

Jem glanced at him and spoke as though he thought Will should already know the answer. "He never leaves any evidence behind to even give us an idea of what to expect should he succeed. The aftermath of the rituals he performs should be helping, but they vary so widely there is no possible way to deduce anything about his goal."

It was working. Will found himself focusing on the conversation instead of those alarming thoughts of love circling his head. "Perhaps it's Agramon," he suggested with a lopsided grin.

Jem rolled his eyes. "Yes, definitely, and his ultimate goal is infecting the entire city with demon pox."

"One never knows."

Jinx glanced between them, frowning and looking a bit confused. "What's Agramon?"

Will was surprised for a moment, then he remembered that Jinx never would have heard the stories.

And that was simply too good of an opportunity to let pass by.

He lowered his voice, trying to keep his tone serious, though he could feel his lips twitching slightly as he fought his smile. "Agramon is the Greater Demon of Fear. It has the ability to know a person's worse fear and turn it into reality. To someone it is not attacking, it looks like a cloud of black smoke, with glowing white eyes that see into your very soul. It is impossible to control and wreaks havoc everywhere it appears."

Jinx stared at him for a second, eyes wide, then she looked to Jem and furrowed her brows, silently asking if Will was serious.

Jem shook his head. "Agramon is a myth, Jinx. It originated during the height of the Great Plague, when a priest claimed, within earshot of a Nephilim, that the 'demon of fear' was responsible for as many deaths as the plague itself. The parishioner to whom the priest was speaking asked for the demon's name and the priest said he had heard the abomination call itself _Agramon_, then proceeded to describe it. Ever since then, stories about Agramon have abounded among Shadowhunters. It is the scary story all Nephilim children hear at some point. There has never been any proof that such a demon actually exists."

Jinx nodded, eyes lighting with comprehension, and then fixed her gaze on Will. She opened her mouth, probably to warn him of retaliation for attempting to frighten her, but never got the chance.

The carriage lurched to a sudden halt, announcing their arrival at the Institute. Will opened the door and grasped Jem's outstretched arm to pull him closer to it; Thomas was already climbing down from the driver's seat to help carry Jem up the steps to the Institute's small foyer. Will returned to transport Jinx and, after shutting carriage door, Thomas swung back up to his place behind the reins and coaxed the horses into motion with a slight flick of a whip, driving out of sight toward the stables.

Will mounted the steps outside the Institute once again, setting Jinx on the floor next to James before he shut the doors and went to find Charlotte. She was in the first place he looked: sitting at her desk in the drawing room, alone, working on some report or other for Consul Wayland.

Her sharp eyes glanced up when he entered and narrowed when she saw he was alone. "What happened? Where are the others?"

"The location we found was tonight's. We interrupted the warlock. He put some kind of paralyzing spell on Jem and Jinx. They're in the entryway. Thomas is tending to the horses."

There must have been something different about his voice, for Charlotte didn't question any of what he said. She immediately stood and started making her way to the door. "Tell me what happened."

Will spoke as they moved through the hallways to the great front doors of the Institute, summarizing everything that happened since she sent them out after midday meal. He omitted the part about Jinx pushing him out of the way of the spell, though; he wasn't sure why, but he wanted to keep that between the three of them.

As they descended the steps toward the entryway, Will was pleasantly surprised to see Jem on his feet, even if he leaned against the wall for support. Jem was smiling down at Jinx and she smiled back up, her hazel eyes simply glowing at him.

Will and Charlotte both paused on the stairs as they took in the scene before them.

Even though Jinx and Jem weren't touching in any way, they weren't even saying anything, the moment seemed so private. It looked as though they believed themselves to be the only two people remaining on earth.

Not even William was willing to interrupt that.

After another moment, Jinx glanced up at them, breaking the intimate mood wrapping around her and Jem and freeing Charlotte and Will to continue down the stairs.

"Well," Charlotte began as she approached them, "the spell was obviously only temporary, but I still want to contact the Silent Brothers. Just to be sure there aren't any lingering long-term effects. We'll have to get you two to the infirmary so they can examine you both at once."

Jem waved her closer. "Feeling has mostly returned to my legs, but I still need help walking, if you don't mind, Charlotte."

Will moved to Jinx and picked her up for the third time that night, once again amazed at the trust in him she displayed as she relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder. They walked to the infirmary in silence, broken only by Charlotte's occasional muttering about acting quickly to track down the warlock before his trail grew cold once more.

Jinx was already asleep by the time Will set her down on a bed—cot, really—in the sickroom. Jem sank down onto the bed next to hers and closed his eyes, and Will couldn't tell whether he was ignoring them or actually asleep.

Either way, it left Will and Charlotte virtually alone in the room.

Their eyes met above the two injured Nephilm. Each gaze as determined as the other, they jerked firm nods in unison, having silently made the same decision.

It did not matter if they had to awake the entire Enclave. The warlock would be found tonight, before he disappeared.

He had made the mistake of attacking their friends, perhaps inducing permanent damage, and thereby made it a personal mission for Will and Charlotte. They would track him down, no matter the cost, and he would regret what he did.

_He will not escape unscathed._

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><p><strong>Thanks to all who have read and please, please, <em>please<em> review!** **And I know this is long overdue, but I will take this time to apologize for the lack of distinctly British dialogue in the story. I'm American, obviously, and I really don't listen to British accents very often. If you can give me any tips for improving that, I would greatly appreciate the help!**


	15. Truth & Secrets

**Author's note:** I hope everyone's having a good week so far! Mine has been rather long, so I once again lack all inspiration for a cute author's note. I will resort to what all fanfiction authors fall back on: Please review!

**Disclaimer:** If I have to repeat this one more time, I may lose my mind. JEM IS NOT MINE! DANG IT ALL! _ahem_ The Infernal Devices is Cassandra Clare's, no infringement intended.

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><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Truth &amp; Secrets<strong>

_Mid April, 1877_

Moonbeams filtered down through a thin layer of clouds to the deserted street far below, washing it with silver light. Stars shone feebly, the high clouds blurring them into indistinct pinpoints of light; in some spots the stars seemed to blur together into single entities, but instead of creating a stronger glow, the clouds spread the combined light thin and diffused it into the air, making the night darker than it should have been. This street was near the docks—proven by the smell of dirty river water wafting up from the Thames on a gentle breeze—and lined with newly-built warehouses not yet used by shipping companies. There was no need to guard valuable wares, so every massive structure, as well as the street itself, was devoid of life.

At first glance, anyway.

Dim shapes darted across the street, keeping to the darkest areas as they flitted down the cobblestones, moving as silently as shadows. The Nephilim moved in loose formation with a purpose, toward one warehouse in particular, each prepared to possibly lose their life this night.

Jinx ghosted down the street with the rest of the Enclave. Will and Jem were in front of her and Charlotte walked to her right, while Henry and Jessamine were somewhere behind her. She knew she should have been scared or apprehensive at the very least, but all she felt was an icy calm as they moved to capture the warlock who had temporarily paralyzed her with a mere flick of his fingers.

About three months—almost exactly fourteen weeks—had passed since that night. Immediately after Charlotte had learned what happened from Will, she'd contacted the Enclave and they all—with the exception of Jinx and Jem—scoured Highgate for signs of where that damn warlock had gone, but they were too late. He had vanished once again. And this time he didn't even leave a clue behind to tell them where he was headed next.

After days of floundering about with no progress to speak of, Charlotte had decided to reach out to the Downworlders of London for help. The Enclave had strongly disapproved of that, but she had insisted. For good reason, as it turned out. A different warlock—Jinx only knew him by sight—had managed to find a used site and reported it to them a week after their quarry disappeared, and had been paid handsomely for it. They'd found the unmistakable signs of black magic and knew they truly were on the trail of the rogue warlock once again.

Another clue was found at that particular site as well, and so they had resumed their cat-and-mouse game of following clues the rogue warlock left behind, always staying a step or two behind him. That is, until Charlotte had once more contacted the warlock who'd helped them before. Jinx didn't know what she'd promised him in return, but it must have been significant, for he provided them with an exact address of where the rogue warlock would be tonight. He was even present, trailing at the very back of the procession, ready to lend his aid if necessary. He claimed it had taken him three days to track down this address and warned them not to waste it.

Jinx wasn't planning on that.

She had _not_ enjoyed being completely useless while she recovered from the spell. A monk named Enoch had arrived at the Institute shortly after Charlotte had contacted the Silent Brothers; Jinx had heard of them, of course, but she had never actually _seen_ one before. Enoch had nearly scared her out of her skin when he woke her up.

But she didn't scream. And she still took pride in that.

He had thoroughly examined Jem first and then Jinx before proclaiming the spell temporary with no long-term effects. Brother Enoch had also told—Jinx couldn't bring herself to even think the word _said_ to describe how he communicated—them that since Jinx had taken the brunt of the spell, her recovery would most likely take two or three days, but Jem should be fully recovered in only a couple hours. Brother Enoch had told Jinx something else, something he initially kept private and Jinx had asked him to continue to do so. He'd respected her request, claiming it was too personal of a topic for him to tell anyone, but had hesitated at the door as he left, and his words echoed through her head for the final time:

_Do not wait long, Miss Jinx. He needs to know._

Jem had noticed that little encounter, but she hadn't told him anything about it. In fact, she hadn't told _anyone_ of her private conversation with Enoch. How could she possibly explain it to someone else when she was still trying to fully come to terms with the revelation herself?

Those three days spent doing absolutely nothing had, initially, helped her think it through; before the first day was over, however, she'd started to go crazy with the inactivity. Jem had been most sympathetic to her plight. He had carried her to the library so she could continue her studies and to the dining room so she could enjoy meals with someone other than him, and he'd even spent time with her when Charlotte had insisted she stay in her room and rest. Basically, he had been impossible to get rid of.

Not that she minded spending almost every waking moment with him. For some reason or other, Jinx never grew bored of his presence, not before Christmas and most certainly not after that night.

Oh, memories of that night never failed to steal her attention and hold it for hours on end! The way he had held her, comforted her, when she told him about how she got her scar…she'd never felt anything like it. She'd never trusted anyone enough to tell them bits of her past before, let alone _everything_ about her past. Most everyone she'd ever known would have either taken advantage of her fears or thrown her away in disgust. Jem did neither. He had only tenderly wrapped his arms around her, told her he still loved her, still trusted her; Jinx had never imagined that someone could be capable of loving her so much.

And of course what happened after she finished her tale always had a tendency to linger close to her thoughts. She loved the way he had held her gently but still unmistakably _hungrily._ The intensity of her reaction to him still shocked her; at first, she hadn't even known exactly what she felt, all she knew was it had felt so overwhelmingly perfect when he touched her like that and she hadn't wanted him to stop. And apparently Jem had felt the same. They'd nearly—no, they _had_ lost control at first. The next morning they had discussed it and agreed that a pregnancy at sixteen would not be something they wanted to deal with—even though they both knew Jem might not survive to eighteen—and they had sworn to keep physical contact at a minimum for fear of losing control again.

But it was so hard to do when even the slightest touch would bring memories of that encounter rushing back. Jinx hoped Jem's control was better than hers, for it was an uphill battle trying to keep her desire under wraps every time he touched her. And it was only getting harder as the days passed.

"_Jinx!"_

The highly irritated whisper jolted Jinx's attention back to the dark street. The Enclave had made their way down the street while she'd allowed herself to get lost in thought; they now surrounded the targeted warehouse, with Jem and Will stationed directly in front of the massive doors and Jinx to their left. She glanced to her own left at Charlotte, from whom the whisper originated, and mouthed an apology. The slightly smaller woman only shook her head and nodded to the warehouse.

Jinx took the hint and pulled out a seraph blade, waiting for the signal to name it. Her eyes swept down the line of visible Shadowhunters standing at attention in front of the warehouse. She recognized Henry, standing on Charlotte's far side; the two Lightwoods, Gabriel and Benedict, at one corner of the building; Charlotte's aunt stood beside them; even Jessamine was in attendance, wearing her fighting gear with obvious disdain at the front corner of the building directly opposite from the Lightwoods. The rest of the Nephilim were not as easy to name.

A tall woman stood directly in front of the doors with Jem and Will. She held her seraph blade up in the air, stele in her other hand, and waited until the Shadowhunters stationed at the corners of the building each raised a hand into the air. Jinx's eyes met Jem's, the gravity of their situation almost tangible in the distance between them. They both knew that anyone or even everyone could die this night, yet everyone was here anyway. Jinx smiled at him, perhaps for the last time, hoping to convey all emotion he conjured within her, and he returned it, briefly, before they both focused on the warehouse again.

As the tall woman started to trace an _Open_ rune on the doors, she dropped her hand back down to her side.

That was the signal.

Jinx slowly counted to five as the woman finished her rune, then whispered a name in unison with all the other Nephilim. _"Anael."_

"_Sansanvi."_

"_Malik."_

"_Israfiel."_

"_Semangelaf."_

Other whispered names sounded around Jinx too quietly for her to understand, and numerous blades flared with light at the same moment, casting a glow on the warehouse as the doors flew open. Will and Jem were the first to disappear into the black void, Jinx and the other Nephilim down the front of the warehouse quick on their heels, with only a few staying behind—two to guard the doors (to make sure the warlock didn't escape through the most obvious exit), one for each corner, and two for the back wall, in case he forced his way out through said wall.

Jinx immediately focused her attention on the floor her feet carried her over. It was made of large stones that had been painstakingly cut smooth and set into the ground; someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to make them as level as possible, inadvertently ensuring that the Shadowhunters could move freely without having to worry too much about where they placed their feet. As Jinx scanned the floor for obstructions, quickly sweeping her gaze from one wall to the other, she momentarily became overwhelmed with the sheer size of the empty cavern they called a warehouse. She'd never seen one of these entirely empty before and her gaze inevitably wandered upward, toward a roof lost in shadows, in a vain attempt to grasp the extent of the room.

A flash of white caught her eye.

She slowed her pace slightly, searching for another glimpse, but saw nothing more than darkness.

_Odd. Must've been the moon showing through a hole in the roof or somethin'._

Jinx's gaze dropped back down to the room, just in time to stop herself from colliding with Jem's back. He stood stock-still, Will directly beside him, neither moving, neither making a sound, holding their seraph blades loosely at their sides. She narrowed her eyes, suddenly even more on edge. They were obviously either under a spell or confident that they wouldn't have to face a threat. Not sure what to expect, Jinx lightly touched Jem's shoulder to let him know she was there before rather hesitantly stepping around him so she could see which reason it was.

She instantly wished she hadn't.

Vivid red blood—almost too bright to be human—painted the floor in front of Jem, a sharp contrast to the pale gray stone floor. Handprints and footprints were scattered haphazardly in a crude circle, as though someone had danced a gruesome celebration. The blood had pooled in some areas; splattered drops circled around those pools and lines arced away from them, suggesting that someone had _played_ with the blood, stomping in it as a child would in a mud puddle, scooping handfuls of the liquid and flinging it across the room to fall where it may. Some of the pools smoldered and puffed smoke into the air, clogging Jinx's lungs with the putrid stench of burnt flesh.

In the middle of that morbid canvas lay the warlock.

He may have been considered handsome once. His skin was white, almost as pale as Jem's, and dark blonde hair fell in soft waves to strong shoulders. Bare to the waist, he looked strong, as though he was accustomed to hard work. In those aspects, at least, he could have been a mundane. But all normalcies ended with his eyes. They were a bit too large for his face and a pale, almost floral, shade of purple; hints of red showed here and there, but that could've just been blood reflecting into them. Short black goat horns rose from his hairline and the thorny tip of a tail rested on a shoulder, further ruining the semblance of normalcy. And yet, as inhuman as that made him look, it was not what destroyed his once-handsome features.

The warlock had mutilated himself.

Deep, ragged cuts crisscrossed patterns across every inch of his body. Flesh had been cleanly cleaved off the bone in some places; other areas were burnt, smoke still trailing slowly toward the roof. He was undoubtedly the source of the blood that coated the floor.

At least she now knew Jem and Will weren't magicked into submission.

The gruesome spectacle made Jinx sick to her stomach, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from it. Her gaze finally made its way back up to the warlock's face. Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth and ran freely from a cut in between his horns. He looked straight at her and—the sight further sickened her—he actually _grinned_.

"I'm so happy you came, Ríona," he said, his voice raspy and quiet. She started a bit. How did he know her name? He gasped and struggled for air, silence reigning the black night until he found the breath to continue. "It is only fitting, after all. You helped me succeed. You should see what you achieved."

Jinx stared. Shock and confusion, from both the sight and his words, flooded her thoughts. "Wha…what do you mean? I would never help summon a demon, let alone a _Greater_ Demon."

The warlock held her gaze, still grinning. "Not directly, no. But you released what I needed."

Jinx blinked at him, still confused. _Is he sane? What could he possibly mean by—No!_

_It couldn't be._

The sudden realization felt as though the roof had just caved in on top of her. _He's right. I helped him._ Horror flooded her thoughts, driving out all other emotions, and it must have shown on her face.

The warlock laughed weakly. "Yes, now you remember. If you had not released my power, I never would have succeeded."

Finally managing to tear her gaze away from the warlock, Jinx turned to Jem. He was frowning at her, trying to make sense of the strange conversation, but seemed to realize what she needed. As she moved closer to him and buried her face in his chest, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, silently offering comfort and not even asking for an explanation.

"What is going on?"

Jinx turned her head to look at Charlotte, who had silently materialized beside Jem. She felt a tear threaten to fall and forced it back; she would _not_ cry in front of the warlock. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, I didn't know—"

"That is the truth," the warlock interrupted. "Ríona was not aware of what she did."

To keep her gaze from wandering back to the horribly mutilated man, Jinx hid her face in Jem's chest once again.

"What are you talking about?" The query from Charlotte was undoubtedly addressed to the warlock.

He laughed again, even weaker this time, and his voice lowered slightly. "I shall start at the beginning. I am the one who helped her father disappear from the Clave. I know how to evade your tracking methods, _O Powerful Nephilim_, and I am the only living being in command of that knowledge. Do not worry, it will die with me. In return for my services, the heartbroken man allowed me to seal part of my power within his young daughter." He coughed—Jinx heard something, most likely blood, spatter onto the floor—and sounded like he struggled for breath. "I was tired of it, you see," he wheezed, then seemed to momentarily recover. "As long as that power stayed a part of me, I could not lie. And now that it is part of me once more, I am incapable of lying. Ask the traitor back there. He'll tell you."

Near inaudible footsteps echoed faintly in the cavernous room as someone entered and quickly strode to where they stood. Jinx didn't have to look to know it was the warlock who'd helped them.

"It's true," the masculine voice was quiet, but carried well in the still air. "He cannot lie. In a manner much like faeries, though. He does not have to tell the _complete_ truth."

"I did not realize what I possessed until I gave it away," the dying warlock rasped. "When I made that foolish decision, I had hoped that mixing a warlock's power within a Nephilim child would kill both the power and the tiny brat, but she must have had a stubborn streak, even that young. I stayed with them for two weeks, listening to her wail in pain while I made sure her father stayed hidden from the Clave's prying eyes. Then I realized she had the strength necessary to survive. So I left. I traveled around the world, but never forgot about her, and after over two years passed I realized what I had given away. Of course, I tried to return and claim my power, but I had done too good of a job hiding them. I searched that miserable swamp for _thirteen years_ without finding a sign of little Miss Ríona's whereabouts. Finally I gave up. I returned to the city they call New Orleans and I boarded a ship bound for London. I would have to find a way to achieve my goal without that which she possessed, that which was rightfully _mine_.

"Imagine my surprise when I heard the rumors six months ago, ones revolving around a dark-skinned Nephilim girl who had never known her heritage. That was too much of a coincidence. I had to know. I summoned that dragon demon you three fought, and I watched as you defeated it. The way you fought, Ríona, it was as though you knew what would happen before it even started happening, and I knew you still possessed my power. I needed to get it back but I could not get to you while you lived in the Institute. Or so I thought. Christmas Eve…that must have been a good night at the Institute for you to decide you no longer needed my gift. It flew back to me and I became whole for the first time in many years. It led me to success. Yes, it has been a long and arduous three months since then, but I have finally succeeded. Because you, Ríona, helped me. I owe my victory to you."

Jinx kept her face hidden throughout the warlock's speech. She wouldn't be able to bear seeing the triumph on his face and the corresponding horror on Charlotte's and everyone else's. Jem still held her close, slowly rubbing her back as she trembled in his arms. _I helped him summon a Greater Demon…what will they do with me now? Surely they'll never allow me to stay in the Institute…not after this…_

A chilling laugh echoed down from the ceiling and a voice reminiscent of shattering glass followed. _"Yes, Nephilim, you should despair. You will neither catch me nor stop me. It is impossible to defeat me. Ready yourselves for chaos among your beloved mundanes."_

Jinx jerked her head up toward the ceiling, trying to locate the source of that inhuman voice. Someone pulled out a witchlight stone and instantly flooded the entire room with bright light, illuminating the rafters, but nothing was there. The wooden beams were empty, smooth, completely unbroken except for a tiny slit in the center of the roof, directly along a seam where two pieces of wood met. Jinx narrowed her eyes and focused on that slit. _That must've been how I saw the moon when I came in,_ she thought. Something about that conclusion didn't seem quite right, but Jinx couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Maybe the problem was that the slit wasn't big enough for _any_ demon to fit through, let alone a Greater Demon. At least none she could readily remember.

She lowered her eyes back to the room, finally becoming aware of the loose circle that the Shadowhunters had formed around the warlock. They clustered around him, probably reminding him that he would not escape this time. Though she hated to do it, Jinx stepped out of Jem's protective hold; his gaze turned questioning, a bit worried, and she gave him a little smile to convey her gratitude and tell him she was fine. Then she turned back to the rogue warlock.

This _bastard_ had shocked her, caught her off guard, and he wanted to hurt her. He wanted to break her. He wanted her to believe the Nephilim would spurn her.

That would not happen.

_He will not win._

"I knew nothing about your deal with my father," Jinx said, making sure to keep her voice clear and calm. "Before tonight, I did not know how he evaded the Clave and I was not aware that I possessed your power. If I had known, I would have found a way to keep it within my mind. I would rather live with it than help you summon a Greater Demon."

The warlock grinned at her again. "Is this where you ask me to return the favor by helping you catch the demon? I will not tell you which one I summoned. It was right; you are not likely to catch it even if you do know what you face."

Jinx kept her eyes focused on him, steadily holding his disturbing lavender gaze. "Exactly. We're _not likely_ to catch it. You can't say we _won't_ catch it, can you?" She paused, momentarily debating whether or not to ask him. There was no reason to believe she would get an answer. Then she realized that someone else would ask if she didn't, and he seemed to be most willing to talk to her. "Why did you do this? Did you want to cause mass death and destruction in the city? Or did you merely want to prove to yourself you were capable of summoning a Greater Demon?" She fought it, but could not completely prevent the slight desperate edge from creeping into her voice. _"Why?"_

He tipped his head quizzically after that last question, and looked at her as though he thought the answer should be obvious. And then he hissed two words Jinx knew would haunt her for the rest of her life.

"_Why not?"_

Silence settled over the warehouse as the Nephilim stared at the dying warlock, horror and disgust plain in their expressions. He closed his eyes, seemingly oblivious to the utter disdain pouring off his audience. His lips were still moving; he seemed to have more to say, but no sound came out of his throat.

Jinx focused her gaze on his mouth, watching as he formed silent words. They weren't in English, she could tell that much, and they looked disturbingly familiar…She knew she should be able to recognize what he was trying to say…

An awful sense of foreboding struck Jinx when she finally recognized the language. Sound that reminded her of crackling flames started spilling from the warlock's mouth and she raised her own voice to drown it out, making sure everyone heard her.

"_Back off!_ Get away from him! Do _not_ touch or stand on his blood!"

Nephilim instantly scattered to the far reaches of the room, leaping away from the rogue warlock and his grisly paint just as violent fire suddenly leapt into existence, exploding out through the warlock's skin. White-hot flames licked up toward the rafters from every drop of blood on the floor and reached out toward the fleeing figures, trying to ensnare them within its deadly grasp. Jem and Jinx stayed close together as they desperately tried to get far enough away to avoid being scorched by the unearthly fire. When they stopped at a safe distance from all sources of the flames, he wrapped an arm around Jinx's waist, pulling her close, pressing her back against his chest, and held her almost possessively. Jinx felt him trembling, or maybe it was her; either way, Jem sounded shaken as he whispered in her ear.

"How did you know?"

Jinx, feeling a bit dazed, only shook her head slowly as her eyes wandered across the room. Every last scattered drop of the warlock's blood flamed, filling the warehouse with flickering light and making the stone floor look like hell itself was trying to force its way up through. "I didn't. I thought he might do something drastic to make sure we couldn't interrogate him, but I had no idea…"

Jem's arms tightened around her, almost as if he was trying to convince himself she was still there, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I almost lost you."

She leaned back against him, relishing the contact, and lowered her voice to match his. "You're not going to get rid of me that easily."

Footsteps sounded off to their right, and Jinx turned to see the warlock who had helped the Enclave walking toward them. Jem made no move to release her as the man drew closer, though, and Jinx didn't try to step away.

"Charlotte asked me to verify the warlock's claim," the tall warlock said as he stopped in front of them. "She doesn't believe the power of a warlock can be sealed within a Nephilim mind."

Jinx hesitated. For him to verify the claim, he would need to access her mind. Which included all of her memories. She chewed on her lip, uncertain for a moment, then decided that if Charlotte trusted this warlock she could as well. She nodded her consent. "All right."

A rather amused expression passed over the warlock's face. "It will work best if you aren't distracted."

Jinx craned her head back to meet Jem's eyes and they shared a grin. He released his grip on her and turned to walk away, but not before pressing a soft—and incredibly brief—kiss to her lips.

"I'm going to make sure there aren't any serious injuries," Jem called over his shoulder as he moved toward the far wall of the warehouse and a knot of people that had gathered there.

Jinx's gaze remained trained on his silver hair until the warlock cleared his throat. She shook her head and focused her attention back on the stranger who stood in front of her.

"Sit, please," he said, gesturing toward the floor as he lowered himself down to it.

Jinx obeyed, sinking to sit cross-legged with the warlock kneeling in front of her. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name," she said as she settled herself a bit more comfortably.

Gold-green cat eyes glinted with residual amusement, and perhaps a bit of shock that she actually cared enough to ask for his name. "Magnus Bane." He inclined his head in the direction Jem had vanished. His black hair shimmered in the flickering light and almost seemed to sparkle as it shifted with the motion of his head. "He seems to be rather…_fond_ of you, Miss Ríona."

She couldn't help glancing in Jem's direction again before smiling at the man in front of her. "Jinx, please."

Magnus grinned at her as he pressed his index fingers to her temples. "As you wish."

Memories instantly started flashing through her mind, almost too fast for her to recognize, and she slipped her eyes shut under the overwhelming onslaught. He started with the present night, then worked his way back chronologically, searching for the slightest sign of magic within her memory. Three months came and went in two seconds, though he lingered on Christmas night a bit longer than strictly necessary. Jinx felt his surprise and knew her face would turn bright red if he stayed on that much longer, but he—thankfully—continued.

Until he reached the night of the party.

The memories froze. A single vivid image stayed in her mind, and under normal circumstances she would've been embarrassed, but something about it was wrong. She saw it from an objective perspective, as though the memory wasn't even hers.

_That's because it isn't,_ Magnus's voice echoed in her mind.

Jinx frowned, ignoring the blush spreading across her face as the rather personal nature of the memory finally started taking effect. _What do you mean?_

_This memory belongs to the bit of power that he sealed within you. You possess this image because it lived with you for most of your life and at this moment it hadn't yet entirely broken away from your mind._ Magnus shifted his attention farther back into her past, focusing on every little detail he could gather about the power._ Strange…from what I can gather from your memories, it seems to have a personality and a life, if you will of its own…it even seems capable of choosing its owner._

A disturbing thought occurred to Jinx as Magnus conveyed that finding, but he alleviated her concern before she could even form it into a sentence.

_No, it died with him. I detect no loose power within this room and nothing, not even black magic, could escape those flames._

Magnus's presence receded from Jinx's mind and his fingers released the pressure they exerted on her temples. She paused a moment, reorganizing her thoughts, before opening her eyes to find him staring at her. Squirming a bit under his scrutiny, she averted her eyes to the floor and hoped he wouldn't question her about Christmas.

"Jinx."

She bit her lip, worried, but returned her gaze to Magnus anyway, warily meeting his eyes.

He sent her a conspiratorial smile, eyes glinting with joy, and whispered, "I won't tell anyone else," he paused, leaning closer so no one could eavesdrop, "but you should know. You're—"

A sudden, distinctly feminine screech shattered the previously still air and nearly drowned out Magnus's words. But Jinx still heard them. Very clearly, in fact, and her eyes flashed open wide as the offered information sunk in. She felt her jaw go slack with shock and she stared at the warlock, silently asking if he was absolutely sure.

He laughed. "No doubt about it," he said confidently as he stood and stretched out his long legs. "And don't worry," he called over his shoulder as he walked toward the warehouse doors. "He'll take the news just fine."

"Who will?"

Jinx snapped her head around to look up at Jem, mentally cursing _Soundless_ runes. "You. Magnus says the warlock's power was definitely sealed within my mind until three months ago," she explained as she accepted the hand he offered and let him pull her to her feet.

Silver eyes narrowed slightly. "Was it—"

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. "It had to be. There's no other option."

Charlotte appeared at the edge of Jinx's vision. "What are you two talking about?"

Jinx became nervous as she turned to face Charlotte. Jem had seemed to accept the fact that she had once been the container for dark magic easily enough, but she didn't know how Charlotte would react. "Well…it's a long story."

Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged, frowning slightly at Jinx. "I have time."

A glance up at Jem helped fortify Jinx's nerves, and she hesitantly began a shortened version. "As long as I can remember, there's been this voice in my mind, constantly whispering at me. I got good at ignoring it and making it be quiet, but every once in a while it would force me to listen. Everything it told me, no matter how trivial, was always right. Including what it would tell me about events that hadn't happened yet. It saved my life several times over. I didn't know it was magic, I didn't even know I wasn't born with it until that warlock told me."

Charlotte quietly listened to her explanation, looking increasingly thoughtful. "So it is possible. Why did it leave?"

Jinx's gaze dropped to the floor. She really didn't want to discuss that memory. It had been embarrassing enough with Magnus. "I told it to."

"When?"

"…Christmas Eve."

"Why?"

Jinx felt a blush start spreading over her ears and knew it would move to her face if Charlotte pressed for details. "It interrupted a…rather private moment. I told it to shut up and go away." Jinx chanced a glance up at Charlotte to see the smaller woman's eyes flicking between her and Jem.

Then Charlotte smiled knowingly and shook her head at them. "Very well, I won't ask for details. Why don't you two and Will—where is he, anyway?" Charlotte broke off abruptly, walking away in search of the elusive Herondale and leaving Jem and Jinx standing together alone.

They looked at each other sideways, trying not to laugh outright at Charlotte's behavior. Jem chuckled and draped an arm over her shoulders. "You're referring to when I left the Christmas party to chase you down, I assume? That kiss in the hallway?" At her affirmative nod, he continued with a distinctly amused tone. "I never knew you could be so bashful, Jinx."

She sent him a mock glare. "You could've helped." A troubling realization suddenly hit Jinx and she berated herself for not asking sooner. "How is everyone? Any serious injuries?"

Relief swept over her as Jem shook his head. "No, only a few minor burns. You saved our lives, Jinx."

Her gaze dropped to the floor again. If she hadn't released the warlock's power, she wouldn't have had to save anyone. Jem seemed to know where her thoughts had drifted to; he twisted around to stand in front of her and hooked his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Jinx, you are _not_ responsible for—"

"I hate to interrupt what must be terribly fascinating conversation," Will's arrogant drawl cut in, "but Charlotte wants us to return to the Institute."

Jem's steady silver eyes held Jinx's for another moment, then he dropped his hand and turned to Will. "She wants us to start researching demons?"

Will nodded as he moved toward the warehouse's doors. "And Thomas has to take Jessamine back so we may as well accompany them. There's nothing else for us to do here."

He didn't sound too happy about Charlotte sending them home, but Jinx was grateful for the excuse to get away from the white-hot fire still raging in the middle of the warehouse. The smaller drops of blood had already burned themselves out and Jinx didn't particularly want to wait for the warlock's body to follow suit. "Was that scream a minute ago Jessie's?" she asked as she fell into step beside Will.

"Yes, it was," Jem answered from her other side. "She stayed outside to stand guard at one of the front corners of the warehouse when we came in. No one saw what happened before she screamed; the door guard—George Penhallow, I think—got to her as quick as he could, but he couldn't find anything strange nearby. And she'd fainted, so he couldn't question her, either."

"If the demon had gotten close enough to her to prompt the scream, she'd probably be dead," Jinx mused out loud, "so that rules out the most logical explanation."

Will snorted. "We are speaking of Jessamine Lovelace, correct? She probably tore one of those perfectly shaped nails."

A giggle escaped Jinx's throat, and she shook her head in disbelief. _If that made me laugh, I must be exhausted. Though he does have a point…_

They walked to the carriage in silence. Thomas had already situated Jessamine on one of the seats; Jinx squeezed in next to the limp girl and the two boys settled across from them. The sound of leather snapping reached Jinx's ears a moment before the carriage lurched into motion, jostling all four of them and nearly rocking Jessamine off the seat. Jinx grabbed her arm only just in time to save her from hitting the floorboards and propped her up in the corner.

Will started to say something distinctly rude, but Jessamine moaned quietly at the same instant, and Jinx instinctively leaned toward her and ignored Will.

"…wh…I…"

Jinx frowned and tilted her ear closer, closing her eyes to focus her entire attention on what Jessamine murmured.

"Oh…way…whit…I…"

_Oh way whit I. Thank you, Jessamine, that's _very_ helpful._ Jinx shook her head and leaned back to settle herself more comfortably on the velvet-backed seat. Will and Jem were discussing something in low tones, too quietly for her to understand; she focused her gaze on the reflection of her face in the window, relaxing her mind, and the boys' low murmurings seemed to fade away, washing through her without conveying their meaning.

Jinx's thoughts drifted back to what Magnus had told her and she had to fight the threatening smile. If she let herself smile Jem would ask her why, and if he didn't then Will would. She would tell them, eventually; she _couldn't_ hide it from anyone much longer. But she would not—could not—tell them right now. If he knew, Jem would never let her out of the Institute while this Greater Demon remained loose in London and, while she would completely understand his reasons for doing so, she couldn't let that happen.

Whether anyone else believed it or not, whether anyone else blamed her or not, she had started this.

_I have to help finish it._

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><p><strong>Thank you all so much for reading! To my U.S. readers, I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving! Please review!<strong>** In honor of the holiday, perhaps? Pretty please? :)**


	16. Suspicions & Schemes

**Author's note:** Hello, faithful readers! I forgot to tell you something in that last chapter: There won't be very much more Magnus in this story. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love him, I just don't think I can do him justice. So you will see a little bit more of him, but not much. And not for a couple chapters. Anyway, please review!

**Disclaimer:** The lovely and talented Cassandra Clare owns The Infernal Devices, including the sweet and wonderful James Carstairs. Plot, OCs, etc. are all mine.

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><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: Suspicions &amp; Schemes<strong>

_Two days later_

Jinx stood by the window in the drawing room. This was one of those rare days in London when the clouds temporarily broke open and allowed sunlight to spill through to the crowded city below. Golden light filtered in through the glass and illuminated Jinx, highlighting her slender form encased in a plain misty blue dress and playing off her thick braid draped over one shoulder. Her hair held a lustrous sheen today and showed more of its auburn shades than usual, though scattered glimpses of black and brown still abounded. She held her head up, tilted back toward the sky, and kept her eyes closed as she soaked in the warmth that seeped through the window. A contented smile graced her stunning features.

To say the least, the sight took Jem's breath away.

He paused in the doorway of the drawing room, drinking in the sight. The late afternoon sun cast a glow around her; it was subtle, but still definitely there, and that glow did not originate entirely from the sun's golden rays. Part of it seemed to come from within Jinx, from the contentment she exuded. Jem had never before seen her look so…peaceful.

After watching her for another few seconds, he slowly moved toward her, not wanting to disturb her peaceful moment until absolutely necessary. But he knew better than to catch her completely by surprise. So when he drew within two steps behind her, he quietly said, "Thought I might find you here."

Jinx turned her head to look at him, her smile shining at him through warm honey eyes and never wavering. "I had to get out of the library for a few minutes." She shifted her focus back to the window and slipped her eyes shut again.

Entirely too soon, in Jem's opinion. Days like these, when her hazel eyes showed more brown than green, were a lot rarer than one would think. When they did occur, her eyes became the color of fresh honey when sunlight filters through it, and while the green shades never completely disappeared, they would grow paler, clearer, more apt to reflect that sunlit honey, and became less noticeable. Jem loved it when her eyes did that. They seemed to light up with heavenly fire and made her vivacious personality shine through that much more.

Jem moved closer and slid his arms around her waist from behind. A small sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back against him and rested her hands on his arms. "No one blames you for that," he whispered, "but Charlotte says we need your affinity for puzzles."

He felt more than saw Jinx's absentminded nod. She had been getting lost in thought fairly often for quite a while now, Jem had noticed. It didn't happen every day, but sometimes more than twice a day, and there seemed to be no particular pattern or trigger for it. There was never any warning, either; Jinx would just start staring off into space, maybe for a few seconds at a time or sometimes minutes, and she would seem to forget that anyone else existed. Sometimes she looked worried about whatever it was she thought about; other times, she would smile in complete and utter joy.

Jem had no idea what could possibly be on her mind that would cause such diverse reactions. Whenever he asked, she would shake herself back to whatever she was supposed to be focusing on and tell him it was nothing. It obviously wasn't _nothing_ but she refused to tell him what had managed to completely ensnare her attention. He didn't exactly push for answers, so he admitted he was partially responsible for not knowing. But he knew she would tell him when she wanted him to know. So he limited his queries to simple questions and didn't try to force answers out of her.

These occurrences of her getting lost in thought had started about…three months ago. Jem had no idea what could have started it; he wondered day and night without reaching any conclusion, logical or otherwise.

Admittedly, he was more than a bit curious.

_One more try couldn't hurt. She might tell me this time…_

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered.

Jinx suddenly turned in his arms to face him, resting her hands on his chest, and stared up at him. There was a yearning in her eyes, as though she wanted desperately to tell him. She opened her mouth and started to say something, but cut herself off, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I want to tell you, Jem, more than you can imagine. But I can't."

He frowned slightly, puzzled at her response. She usually didn't say more about it than a simple _nothing_. "You can tell me anything, Jinx. You know that."

She nodded quickly. "I know, and it's not that I don't trust you. I just…can't. Not yet."

Jem reluctantly nodded and allowed the matter to drop. Jinx instantly looked grateful for that, making his thoughts swirl in unpleasant directions as he thought of what could possibly be so bad that she couldn't bring herself to tell him.

But then Jinx looked up at him again, meeting his gaze, and all thoughts of the problem faded away. His arms were still wrapped snugly around her, anchoring her in place, and her hands still rested on his chest.

And they were alone. In a fairly small room. With the door shut.

This was exactly the type of situation they had tried so hard to avoid for the past three months.

But there was absolutely nothing Jem could do about that now.

The pull was just too strong to resist. He lowered his mouth to hers, intending to keep the touch feather light—and then her mouth opened under his, not near as shyly as the first time, and all of his good intentions vanished. The kiss grew more insistent, took on a hungering edge. Her small hand tangled itself into his hair, the other rested lightly on his neck…a touch from Jinx never failed to fan the embers into flames. The first time he'd lost control of those flames it hadn't been a conscious decision. This time it was. He'd had to fight those flames for six months, even though he'd never _wanted_ to fight it. Jem wanted to lose control, he wanted to get lost in her and temporarily forget about the rest of the world.

So he did. He gave in to these overwhelming sensations based more from emotion than primal desire. His fingers drifted down her spine, not wandering any further down than the small of her back, then shifted to her side, and unlike the first time they lost control like this, she didn't tense when his hand ghosted up and back down her side to rest on her hip. Jinx tipped her head back, breaking the kiss, and let out a quiet moan, the sound driving nearly every thought from his head.

Jem's lips drifted down her soft skin to her jawbone, then down to her neck, as he whispered, "Tell me to stop, Jinx."

Her fingers in his hair tightened as he trailed kisses down toward her collarbone and another moan escaped her lips, though this time the sound formed a single word.

"_James."_

The few remaining shreds of his control shattered at the breathy sound of his name. He lifted his head back up and met her mouth in a fierce kiss, making his lack of will to stop quite clear.

Jinx didn't seem to mind. She returned the hunger that bordered on desperation as his hands gripped her hips and lifted her off the floor. He stepped toward one of the large armchairs—

"_Ahem."_

Jem froze. Jinx tore her mouth away from his, whipping her head toward the door as he gently lowered her feet back to the floor. She didn't step away from him, though, and he didn't release his hold on her. After a brief moment to gather the courage necessary to look at whoever interrupted them, Jem directed his gaze to the drawing room door.

Will stood just inside the room, grinning at them. "You'd better be grateful," he said. "Charlotte almost came looking for you herself instead of telling me to. I don't care what you two do in your spare time, but I'm sure Charlotte would have something to say about that particular activity."

Jinx stepped out of Jem's arms. "Back to the library?" she asked.

Jem reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers, taking in her appearance. She had lost that peaceful look from just moments ago; now she looked more flustered, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and a mildly wrinkled dress. But her eyes still sparkled at him. He smiled. "Since I was supposed to take you back there as soon as I found you, I assume that's where Charlotte wants us." He looked to Will for confirmation.

His _parabatai_ nodded, still grinning. "I'm sure the ancient texts on Greater Demons will still be there in ten minutes, so if you want to continue…"

Jinx rolled her eyes at Will and moved past him into the hallway. "No, you effectively ruined the mood, William."

Jem chuckled as he followed her into the corridor, Will falling into step beside him. And since he knew William would tease her mercilessly all the way to the library if given the chance, Jem decided to try to bait him into talking about something—anything—else. "Is Jessamine still helping?"

The strategy worked. Will snorted. "If by 'helping' you mean she's sitting at a table complaining about the dust getting on her dress then yes, Jessamine is _helping_."

"Have they found anything new since we've been gone?"

"No," Will said with a scowl. "We've gone through all the records we have of Greater Demons and there are none small enough to fit through that crack in the warehouse's roof. There aren't any that can change shape to fit through, either. If anyone will solve this puzzle, it'll be Jinx."

That last bit of what Will said was so quiet Jem thought he hadn't meant to say it at all. Jem glanced over at his black-haired companion to find an uncharacteristically serious look on Will's face. After considering it for a second, Jem decided to ignore the comment. A disturbing thought had been lingering in Jem's mind for a while now and he hadn't yet found the right time to voice it. But since his _parabatai_ seemed to be in a benevolent mood at the moment—he'd accepted Jem's distraction, at least—the time seemed to be as good as it was going to get.

"Will," Jem hesitated, then changed his mind and stretched a hand out to Will's arm to stop him. They stood facing each other in the dimly lit hallway now, with Will staring rather worriedly at Jem. "Before I ask you this, William, please swear to me you will answer it truthfully."

Will's brows lifted slightly, but he must have heard something in Jem's voice that told him to take this seriously, for he only nodded and said, "You have my word, James."

"Am I being selfish? With Jinx, I mean. We all know I'm dying. Am I being selfish by making her stay here, at the Institute…with me?" Jem heard his voice break; voicing this hurt much more than he had anticipated, but he had to get it out. "Should I tell her to leave now, while I'm still reasonably healthy, and hope she'll have time to move on with her life before she receives news of my death? Would it be kinder to do that, give her a chance to walk away and hope that my death will not have too much of an impact on her? Would it be better for her to remember me as I am now?"

Will looked shocked. Then a smile suddenly tugged at his lips as he shook his head at Jem. It wasn't Will's usual smile, though; this one actually appeared to be genuine. "Jem…sometimes I swear you're just as clever as I, but then you say something like that…" a quiet chuckle escaped Will's throat.

Irritation welled up within Jem. _I thought he might actually take this seriously._

Thankfully, that thought did not have time to progress any further.

"She wouldn't," Will continued. "You know well enough that Jinx is far too stubborn to be sent away like that. She would stay whether you asked her to leave or not." A moment of silence, then he added, "You're not being selfish. You deserve to have something in your life to make you happy. A bit of advice, Jem: open your eyes. If she loves you half as much as you obviously love her, time spent away from you before your death will not soften the blow."

_Well, _that_ is a comforting thought._ Jem nodded his thanks to William for the straightforward answer. "Is there nothing I can do?"

Will grinned his typical grin that never held much genuine mirth. "You're not me. No, there is nothing you could force yourself to do that would help her move on."

Jem nodded, trying to resign himself to the reality of his situation with Jinx, and started moving down the corridor once again. They were closer to the library than he had thought. Jinx stood facing the door just a short distance away; she suddenly spun around, paced to the wall opposite, and immediately stalked back to the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest and occasionally fingertips would lift to her mouth to pick at slightly chapped lips.

A smile sprang to Jem's face as he drew closer to her. He knew that if she realized she was doing that she would be more irritated at herself than should be humanly possible. He was tempted to call out to get her attention, but she seemed to be muttering to herself, something she only did when she was close to solving a particularly challenging riddle, so he didn't interrupt her thoughts. As he drew within arm's length of her, he could finally hear her mutterings.

"…it has to be…but it _can't_…why not? Nothing else fits…but it_ can't_ be…"

Jem raised his eyebrows, feeling a bit shocked. He'd never heard her sound so confused at this point in her process before.

Jinx suddenly stopped in her tracks and snapped her head up to look at them, her eyes shining with perplexity. "It doesn't make any sense, Jem, but it's the only sensible explanation."

_What?_ He blinked and shook his head, unable to follow her cryptic logic. "Beg your pardon?"

She started gnawing on her bottom lip and heaved a sigh. "Think about it. A hole so small it only allows air through. Air and _smoke_. I saw a flash of white when I looked up at the ceiling of the warehouse and thought I saw the moon, but the moon wasn't anywhere near that particular patch of sky. And Jessamine was muttering something about 'whit I' while she was still unconscious. But she wasn't saying _'whit I'_; she was saying _'white eyes'_. The demon that the warlock summoned showed itself to her but she doesn't remember seeing a demon. It _scared_ her into fainting but she didn't see a _demon_ and she won't tell us what she did see." Jinx broke off abruptly and hazel eyes implored him to say something, anything, either to prove her right or wrong. She didn't seem to care one way or the other.

"What are you on about?" Will inquired, sounding rather confused.

Jem knew precisely what she meant and why she only wanted acknowledgement; his thoughts had started chasing hers down a sharply winding path soon after she started her short speech, and he wasn't sure he quite believed where that path led. He closed his eyes, trying to wrap his thoughts around the odd revelation, and shook his head again, but she didn't give him the chance to say anything.

"James, _think about it_. There's no Greater Demon _on record_ that fits all the criteria. Just pretend those stories don't exist for a minute and seriously consider what I'm telling you—"

"Wait," said Will from behind Jem, his confusion apparently gone, "you're not really suggesting _that_, are you?"

Jem opened his eyes in time to see Jinx roll her eyes at Will. "If you have a better theory, Will, I'd be happy to hear it."

"I agree with her," Jem said quietly, drawing equally shocked gazes from both of them. "It's the only explanation."

Will's eyes darted back and forth between Jem and Jinx. "Have you two gone daft?"

Jinx fixed her gaze on Jem, apparently ignoring Will. "That's why he need the power he sealed within me. There was no other way to learn the summoning ritual."

Jem nodded his agreement. "And that's why the aftermath of the rituals always varied so widely. He didn't have any information to begin with."

She shook her head, eyes becoming unfocused as her thoughts jumped in a different direction. "This will wreak havoc in London. No wonder we've gotten those reports about mundanes acting erratically and—"

"_That's_ your proof?" Will interjected incredulously. "Reports of mundanes being scared to the point of insanity? We don't even know if the cause is magical."

Jinx's gaze became focused once again and remained trained steadily on Jem's. "It has to be. Some of the mundanes were found dead. Nothing that I know of in the mundane world will literally scare a person to death."

"Jinx!" Will's voice rose and took on a decidedly annoyed tone. "It is a _myth_!"

Hazel eyes still didn't wander. Jem returned her gaze steadily and answered for her. "It is not a Greater Demon on record. It is reportedly made of smoke and possesses white eyes that could be mistaken for a glimpse of the moon. It has the ability to make one's greatest fears come true before one's eyes. It took the warlock months to succeed because he didn't know how to summon it. If we're correct, Will, and Agramon the Greater Demon of Fear is running rampant, then we are faced with a serious threat to the people of London."

Silence settled over the corridor, tension in the air almost tangible.

The library door suddenly swung open wide, revealing Charlotte standing on the other side and startling all three of the Shadowhunters in the corridor. Sharp dark eyes flashed from Jem to Jinx and back again. "Are you sure about this theory of yours?" Charlotte asked worriedly.

Jem finally tore his gaze from Jinx to answer. "Yes, we are."

"How are we supposed to prove it to the Enclave?"

That gave Jem a pause. He glanced at Jinx, hoping she had thought that far ahead.

Apparently she had.

"Where's a map of the city I can use?" Jinx asked, steadily meeting Charlotte's sharp gaze.

The smaller woman hesitated, curiosity sparking within her dark eyes, then she gestured toward her desk and stepped aside to allow Jinx into the library. "There's one on the meeting table."

Jinx swept through the doorway, Jem and Will close behind. She stopped in front of the desk, snatching up a blank paper and the first readily available writing instrument, which was a feather quill. After dipping it into ink and tapping off the excess, she set it to the paper and drew a flowing series of lines while using her left hand to point out different areas on the map. "It started here, near the port," the quill rested near the top of the paper; "and the first reports of mundanes being scared witless form a line to the opposite end of the city," the quill moved down to the right at an angle from the first point it made; "the next reports moved to this far side," the quill traced ink back up and to the left, not reaching the height of the first point; "next they went directly across from that spot," ink traced a straight line across the paper to the right; "and then moved to a corner of the city straight across from the end of the first line of reports," the quill moved down again, to the left this time; "and now they're moving back up to where it all started." The last bits of ink left the quill tip as it traced a faint line back up to close the figure Jinx had drawn.

Her left index finger rested on the map, on top of the warehouse district of the port. A rough five-pointed star covered the previously blank sheet of paper. "The only way we can prove Agramon is real," Jinx continued, lifting her head up to meet Charlotte's eyes, "is to catch it. We received reports of mundanes acting strangely at and in between all of these points. I think it's going to finish drawing an imaginary pentagram over the city, starting with the star."

Charlotte answered Jinx's theory with one word: "Why?"

Jinx hesitated for the first time, then said, "To mock us, perhaps? I don't know. But I have a hunch that it's gonna—sorry, going to finish the pentagram. It should be there either tonight or tomorrow morning. That's gon—_going_ to be our best, maybe only chance to stop it."

Jem suppressed a chuckle. Jinx's accent tended to become more pronounced whenever her emotions ran a bit high.

"But how are we going to convince the Enclave to go there to kill a mythical demon?" Charlotte asked.

"And how are we supposed to kill it if it really is made of smoke?" Will interjected. "None of the stories ever covered that particular problem."

Jinx paused again, eyes flashing between Charlotte and Will before resting on Jem. Regret flickered in her gaze, but so briefly Jem wasn't sure if it had even been there, and then Jinx turned her gaze back to Charlotte. "Ya'll're going to think I'm crazy, but here's what I'm thinkin'…"

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><p><strong>So, what do you think her secret is? Is she also a container for demon energies or is it something less terrifying and more normal? Hehe, well, she's a Shadowhunter so I guess "normal" isn't really an option :) Thank you all so very much for giving me almost 2,000 hits already and please review! Seriously, people, think about it. Almost 2,000 hits and only 20 reviews. There's something wrong with that...Anyway, I won't not update if you don't review, but it is something I hope for with every update, so please make my day and click that little "Review" button!<br>**


	17. Preparation & Anxiety

**Author's note:** Hello again, faithful readers! I hope everyone had an amazing weekend! It's another really short one this time, because it's another chapter that didn't make the rough outline. But I wrote it and then I liked it and so here you go!

**Disclaimer:** Are you really going to make me type this _again_? It hurts. Oh, fine! Jem is fictional and he still belongs to Cassie Clare, along with the rest of Infernal Devices. *_ouch_* That's enough to induce depression, right there.

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: Preparation &amp; Anxiety<strong>

"Oh, bloody _hell_!"

Jem snapped his head around to find Jinx at the sound of her surprised cry. After a moment of fruitlessly scanning the crowded weapons room, he located her at the far end, where she stood shaking blood from her hand. He started moving toward her, concerned about the severity of the cut until he noticed that she seemed to be more irritated than pained. She smiled ruefully at him when he stopped beside her, but she didn't say anything as he drew his stele for the necessary _iratze_ and gently took hold of the injured hand. "It took us six months," he whispered to keep their conversation private from the other Shadowhunters packed into the room, "but I do believe we finally made you sound less distinctly American. What happened?"

She glanced up at him through her lashes, eyes sparkling. "To my accent or my hand?"

He chuckled. "Considering you just said 'muh' twice, I believe your accent is there to stay." Jem finished the _iratze_ and smiled at her as the bleeding slice across the palm of her left hand disappeared, leaving a faint scar behind. "I was referring to your hand."

Jinx shrugged and avoided his eyes. "I got distracted and a knife slipped through my fingers."

Jem glanced around. A sizable portion of the entire Enclave had crowded themselves into the weapons room, preparing for battle and filling the room to capacity. Charlotte had gathered them with an urgent message soon after Jinx had explained her plan to catch Agramon; they hadn't told anyone of their suspicions concerning the identity of the Greater Demon, they'd merely outlined their theory concerning the demon's movements across the city and their plan for catching the thing before it caused any more death. The Enclave had accepted their theory after only a few minutes of debate and then had descended upon the weapons room in full force. Since they didn't know what to expect, they were all preparing for the absolute worst possible scenario.

And no one was paying any attention to Jinx and Jem.

He shifted a bit closer to Jinx and bent down, hooking his fingers under her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and still refused to make eye contact. "Nothing."

"You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't think I had to. We don't know what to expect for this fight, or even if there's going to be a fight." Jem lifted his other hand to her face and tenderly brushed his fingers down her cheek. "I don't want you distracted."

Jinx stubbornly kept her gaze trained away from him.

Jem lowered his voice again and shifted just a touch closer. "Please, Jinx…tell me what's wrong…"

"I…" Jinx finally looked into his eyes, but not with the expression he wanted to see. "I can't. I'm sorry, Jem, but you'll never let me leave the Institute after I tell you and I—" she broke off abruptly and shifted her gaze away again.

Confused, Jem frowned slightly. "I can promise that I'll still let you—"

"_No!"_ The sudden vehemence in that cry shocked him, and Jinx's voice took on an almost desperate edge. "You'd never forgive me if I forced you into that promise. Please, Jem, trust me…I'll tell you after this Greater Demon issue is settled, but I can't until then."

"Why not?" he could hear the fraught tone in his query, but quite honestly, he didn't care how he sounded. He just wanted answers.

After a moment of tense silence, a puff of pent-up something finally came out of Jinx in the form of an irritated huff. "Because I have to finish this! I know you don't blame me, I know that nobody here blames me, but _I helped the warlock summon a Greater Demon._ I have to help stop it!"

Stunned once again by the force of her reaction, Jem had to think about his answer before voicing it. _Well, that's why she worried about me not letting her out of the Institute. But it's obviously not the main problem._ "I want to help you," he sighed, "but I can't do that if you don't tell me what has been distracting you for these past three months. I do not want to go into this fight not knowing where your attention is focused…I don't want to lose you like that. Please…tell me what is wrong."

Jinx hesitated, a deep yearning in her eyes. Jem felt hope sprout and start to grow in the back of his mind; she looked like she might actually tell him this time.

Before she said anything, she stepped closer and slid her arms around his waist. He wrapped his own arms around her, enveloping her small frame as she softly spoke. "Nothing's _wrong_; it's just a bit of a shock. I won't be distracted during the fight, James. My focus will be on the demon and on it alone."

The tendril of hope withered and died. _Why does she have to be so damn stubborn?_ Anger sparked to life within Jem and he fought to quench it; going into the fight angry wouldn't do them any good. He held her a moment longer, then stepped back. "Very well, Jinx."

One more look into her hazel eyes and his irritation instantly dissipated.

She was scared. Scared and silently pleading with him to understand, to forgive her for not telling him. Jem felt a reluctantly reassuring smile tug at his lips. "Will I at least be happy with this shocking distraction?"

A radiant smile instantly blossomed on Jinx's face and she finally looked him in the eye again. "I think you'll love it."

He shook his head at her, but couldn't help smiling back. After a moment's hesitation, with a brief thought concerning their audience, he leaned down and kissed her, just a faint brush of his lips across hers, then he pulled back. "Try not to die tonight, Miss Jinx. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Likewise, James." She sent him one last smile before turning back to her preparations for the impending battle.

Jem slowly walked back to his own preparations, utterly confused. Muscle memory alone carried his hands through the familiar motions of checking knives for sharpness, strapping them to his gear in easily accessible spots, selecting different weapons he may need and discarding others he most likely wouldn't require. His thoughts remained focused on Jinx all the while.

_It's something that distracts her at any time of day or night, but it isn't something she considers to be a problem…may as well start at the beginning._ It had started about three months ago, after the warlock paralyzed them—wait! _Brother Enoch!_ That had to be it. Three months ago, after the monk had examined her, Enoch had had a private conversation with Jinx—and Jem still didn't know what they'd discussed. That had to be related to her distraction. Could it be that Enoch saw the traces of dark magic lingering within her mind? _No, it's not that; she said I'd be happy to hear it…and she looked so peaceful earlier, when she was thinking about it in the drawing room…_Maybe it had something to do with what she didn't tell him about her conversation with Magnus in the warehouse. _Magnus was smiling as he walked away and said I'd take the news just fine. I don't know him, but I don't think he would've smiled if he was referring to the warlock's power. _Maybe Magnus and Enoch both discovered the same thing. _After they looked within her mind._ No, that wasn't right, either; Enoch didn't look within her mind too deeply. He'd focused on a _physical_ examination. What could possibly—

"James," Henry's voice interrupted Jem's troubled thoughts with a decidedly amused tone. "I'm generally referred to as the distracted one. You're supposed to be the steady, unruffleable one."

Jem glanced up. "Beg your pardon?"

The ginger head bobbed toward his hands and Jem shifted his gaze down to where he held a coil of electrum wire. Well, what had once been a coil. Jem had apparently been twisting it while his thoughts had wandered down an equally twisted path; the wire was now a hopelessly tangled mess. He glanced back up at Henry with a rueful expression. "I hadn't realized…"

Henry's eyes glinted with laughter. "Obviously. Are you worried about this Greater Demon thing?"

Jem almost shook his head, almost said it wasn't, _almost_ told Henry the truth. But something made him pause. _No one else needs to know how distracted Jinx is tonight,_ he decided. He felt terrible for doing it, but all he said was, "We've never had to face a Greater Demon before, Henry." He wasn't technically lying. He just wasn't telling Henry the complete truth.

The brilliant yet oft absent-minded man looked at him with uncharacteristically clear eyes. "It's a good plan, Jem, no matter how strange it may be. As long as everyone does their part, we should come out of it as good as we're going in."

Jem nodded and smiled his thanks. He hadn't really needed the comfort, but it still felt good to hear someone say that. A strange foreboding had been hovering over Jem's thoughts ever since Jinx outlined her plan; he didn't know why and he didn't know what could have caused it, and he couldn't seem to shake it off. _Probably just pre-battle nerves._

The Shadowhunters had a sound plan. They had good preparation and training on their side. They faced demons on a daily basis. This was nothing new.

_Everything will be just fine,_ Jem firmly told himself. He forcibly pushed the ominous feeling away. There was absolutely nothing that should cause it. It would only serve to distract him and that was the last thing he needed tonight.

_Everything will be just fine._

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><p><strong>Please review!<br>**


	18. Terrors & Victory

**Author's note:** Can you believe it? Less than a week for CP! YAY! _ahem_ Please review!

**Disclaimer:** Seriously? Again? Alright, alright, here you go: The Infernal Devices belongs to Cassandra Clare. The twisted imagination that derived this fic is mine. And please don't steal that, I may not survive without it!

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen: Terrors &amp; Victory<strong>

A lone man wandered down the deserted alleyway. In the faint pre-dawn light, it was impossible to note his exact attire, though perhaps it was some type of workman's clothes: most likely a frayed jacket, trousers, and heavy boots, with no waistcoat to be seen. If one looked closely, straps that carried the tools of his trade could be seen crossing his jacket, but the tools themselves were indistinct shapes. The man walked with a slow, shuffling gate and kept his head down, eyes trained on the debris-strewn dirt alleyway. A melancholy air—caused in equal parts by both the lonely set of his shoulders and the heavy storm clouds in the sky—hung around him as he slowly made his way closer to the end of the alley.

Jinx stood on the roof of a warehouse near that particular alley and narrowed her eyes at the man, forcing her night vision rune to sharpen the image. She could now see the "tools of his trade" quite clearly: various blades, throwing discs, and coils of wire were what adorned the straps across his jacket.

The Nephilim man was—for lack of a better term—bait.

This was the first part of their plan for catching Agramon. There were more Nephilim wandering the streets and alleyways of the warehouse district, acting as bait for their trap, and Jinx couldn't help feeling a bit nervous. Jinx had figured out the majority of the plan and they'd agreed on the general outline of it; the only part that hadn't come easily was how to lure Agramon to a specific point. They had struggled with that, tossing countless ideas around and rejecting them all—until Will suggested simply using bait. Jinx fought him on it, but had been forced to concede that she couldn't think of any better way to do it.

The Shadowhunters wandering alone were to keep a sharp look out for any sign of demonic activity and if they stumbled upon the Greater Demon (or if it stumbled upon them), they would run to the warehouse that Jinx and the rest of the Enclave currently stood on. The warehouse they'd chosen for their trap was as empty as the one they'd found the rogue warlock in, though unlike that structure, it wasn't newly assembled. Quite the contrary, actually; this was a derelict old thing, veritably crumbling under Jinx's feet. It had been selected because of a staircase leading to the roof that had been constructed along an exterior wall for some strange reason or another. Those playing bait were to use those stairs to lead the demon to the roof, where the rest of the Enclave would spring the trap. The plan once the demon was on the roof was simple: either kill it or keep it on the roof until the sun rose.

Jinx didn't know how they could possibly kill Agramon, so she was fervently praying for the thick storm clouds to disperse quickly. Her eyes constantly wandered to the eastern horizon, hoping against hope for the slightest sign of thinning clouds. It had yet to happen. Although the thunderheads had seemed to begin dispersing in the past few minutes in one particularly bright patch…But Jinx had decided that it was probably only false hope.

She tore her eyes away from the patch of weak light and slowly spun in place, searching the faces spread out over the roof. When her eyes landed on Henry's unmistakable shock of ginger hair, she quickly walked over to him. "How much longer?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Henry pulled out a pocket watch that he always kept on his person, no matter where he went or what he did. He glanced at the face. "Well, Jinx, it is approximately five minutes," he stopped abruptly, glanced around, and lowered his voice, making her strain to hear the next bit. "_After_ sunrise."

Her gaze had been focused on the watch, but now it flew up to meet Henry's. "Wha—"

He quietly shushed her query. "I know I was supposed to alert the Enclave precisely at sunrise. I thought that with the storm clouds, waiting perhaps five or ten minutes after sunrise wouldn't hurt anyone. Indeed, it might actually _help_ someone."

Jinx blinked at him, then gave the brilliant man a small smile. "Much obliged."

He returned her smile with a grin. "Anything for family."

She shook her head. "I'm not family, Henry. I'm just Jinx."

Henry frowned, a mildly confused look entering his eyes. "Why wouldn't you be family?"

Jinx started to explain exactly why she would never be family, but the words stuck in her throat. As she considered his innocent question another smile slowly slid into place. She opened her mouth to answer him, then realized with a start he had wandered away while she thought about it. Shaking her head with bemusement at—well, Henry in general, Jinx moved back to her designated lookout spot on the roof.

It was a rather lonely little spot, with absolutely nothing to keep her thoughts from running in worrisome directions. The Enclave had been here since just past midnight and as of yet there had been no sign of any demonic activity. Now it was five minutes past when they were supposed to quit. What if she was wrong? What if Agramon wasn't here? What if it wasn't even Agramon at all and the myth really was just a myth? What if—

_"Over here!"_

The urgent whisper drew all members of the Enclave like a horde of vampires drawn to a bleeding mundane. They gathered around George Penhallow, from whom the whisper had originated, at the west edge of the warehouse. Jinx's eyes searched the maze of streets until she saw it: the indistinct form of a Nephilim man running toward the warehouse as fast as he could move. There was some_thing_ chasing him, something that was visible for only brief glimpses at a time before once again blending in with the shadows.

_I was right!_

The triumph that came with that thought lasted only a single moment. She hurriedly moved back from the edge as the Enclave formed a rough circle on the roof and took her place in the formation, with Jem to her left and Gabriel Lightwood to her right. Will stood almost directly across from her; Charlotte and Henry stood together just a couple figures to Will's right. The circle of Shadowhunters stayed on their feet for another second, looking around to check for any holes the demon could escape through, before silently dropping to lay flat on the roof. They didn't want to alert the demon to their presence until it entered the trap.

Jinx slowly took a deep breath to calm her nerves, anxiously waiting for the demon to appear. She still didn't know whether it was Agramon or not. Her memory flashed back to when she had explained her plan to the Enclave; she had felt the same nervous, almost sickening anxiousness then as well. One question had been at the forefront of everyone's mind:

"How are we supposed to kill the demon if we don't even know which one it is?"

She hadn't known how to answer. Jem had answered for her, saying, "We don't have to kill it. We only have to ensure it doesn't stay in our world."

The Enclave had protested against that way of thinking—which was understandable, Jinx knew exactly why they'd resisted it, but there really was no other way to approach this fight. They didn't have to _kill_ the demon in order to win. All they had to do was make sure the sun's rays struck it and sent it back to its own world. That wouldn't kill the thing outright, but it would banish the demon from their world until some other warlock summoned it.

In theory, it was a simple plan. But there was so much room for error, so many unpredictable variables…

The sound of feet veritably flying up the stairs jolted Jinx's attention back to the rooftop. She was confused for a moment, then remembered that all the "bait" Shadowhunters had forgone _Soundless_ runes in order to appear more mundane at first glance.

Jinx felt her fingers start twitching in anticipation. _Any moment now…_

The man's head finally appeared above the roofline, quickly followed by the rest of his body. He vaulted up the last step and sprinted to the far side of roof. Jinx's eyes followed his movement; as soon as he whirled to face the demon that chased him, she leapt to her feet with the rest of the Enclave and drew a seraph blade, naming it as she set her feet in preparation for a fight.

For an instant, no one moved, no one made a sound. Unwilling to believe their eyes, every Shadowhunter in attendance stared at the demon in their midst.

Then a chilling laugh shattered the still air.

_"Foolish Nephilim, did you really think this pathetic plan would stop me?"_

The hissing voice was reminiscent of shattering glass and sent tendrils of fear crawling up Jinx's spine. She resisted the urge to shudder and avert her eyes from the demon that the voice belonged to. It floated in midair, a cloud of—for lack of a better description—black smoke with large pure white eyes that searched each face in turn. Determined not to show it any weakness whatsoever, she stared straight at it and never once allowed herself to waiver.

"But…" a man across the circle from Jinx spoke rather hesitantly, "y-you're…only a myth…"

Perfectly round white eyes instantly swiveled to stare at the man who spoke. _"Do you require proof that I am Agramon, Greater Demon of Fear?"_ The smoke drifted closer to him.

The Nephilim man stared at the demon for another moment with no change, then he abruptly started shaking uncontrollably and his face twisted into an expression of abject terror. "Stop!" he cried. "You lie!"

Agramon laughed again. _"Yes, I lie. But that is still possible."_ The patch of smoke drifted back to the middle of the circle. _"Obviously, the sun is not going to come out today. You foolish, pompous Nephilim have ruined your only chance of stopping me. But since I am in a benevolent mood, I shall demonstrate to you why I am the Greater Demon of Fear. I won't even kill you all in doing so. I will leave survivors to spread the news about my arrival. Before this day is over, all Nephilim will know that I am invincible."_ The white eyes began turning in a circle, examining each and every face. _"Where to start, I wonder? Not you, that is too easy…entirely too predictable…is that all? Not near enough of a challenge…"_

Proclamations continued as the eyes passed over different faces. In some bizarre portion of her mind, Jinx wondered what these apparently "too easy" or "predictable" greatest fears were, but then Agramon's gaze neared Charlotte, Henry, and Will. Jinx felt her fingers start trembling on the hilt of her blade and she tightened her grip, forcing the shakes away. She glared at the smoke, mentally warning it not to even think about attacking Jem's _parabatai._

The penetrating gaze passed over Charlotte and Henry without saying anything—but then it stopped on Will.

_"Interesting…"_ the demon mused after staring at him for a moment. _"But it already plagues you night and day…there is nothing more I can do. Not with regard to that, anyway."_ Agramon's eyes suddenly swiveled around to land on Jem. _"But this is something…"_

Jinx instinctively shifted half a foot width closer to Jem, that small motion enough to draw the demon's attention. She defiantly stared straight into its eyes.

_"This is something, indeed."_ Agramon almost sounded amused. White eyes turned to Gabriel Lightwood, still standing beside Jinx, and then once again to Jem on her other side. _"My, my…for the effort of one, I can achieve three."_

The demon shot toward Gabriel. It was surprisingly fast.

Gabriel seemed to be fixed in place.

Jinx wanted to yell at him, tell him to move, fight back, do _something_, but there wasn't time. There wasn't even time to think. She acted purely on instinct.

She leapt into the demon's path, directly in front of Gabriel, and could've sworn that the demon actually _smiled_ at her. An instant later Agramon's smoky form enveloped Jinx, her right hand inexplicably twisted her seraph blade around—and a sharp pain suddenly stabbed into her abdomen. Her lips parted with shock. She heard, as though from a great distance, a voice that wasn't hers yell in absolute outrage.

_No…_

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as her seraph blade slipped from her loose fingers and clattered to the roof. Her hands flew to the afflicted spot—and felt a warm fluid.

_Not that…please, no…_

Jinx slowly drew a hand up to eye level, too scared to look down at the wound, and saw exactly what she feared most.

Blood dripped from her fingers.

The world swam in front of her eyes. Willpower alone kept her conscious and upright.

_No, no, no…this is not happening…I never even told him…_

Her hand dropped back to the wound and she found herself staring into white eyes that hovered directly in front of her. She didn't move away, she didn't try to fight back. The horror of what that demon did crushed the little bit of willpower that kept her on her feet and she fell to her knees, completely helpless. Shock drove away the physical pain, but it couldn't do anything to ease her tortured emotions. She couldn't even form a thought anymore, let alone an effort to move.

Agramon's eyes filled her vision again. _"I should have said five,"_ it hissed, sounding sickeningly amused.

Jinx blinked once, then again, as Agramon's tone sank in. Anger slowly began replacing the shock that fogged her mind.

_It's laughing at me._

Agramon moved away from her, seemingly oblivious to her returning willpower. It drifted toward Jem, which only served to feed the flames of her growing rage. Jinx knew she couldn't fight it directly, that was impossible, so she did the only thing she could think to do that might stop Agramon. She turned her face up to the eastern horizon, to the thick storm clouds still veiling the sun, and shouted, "Are you going to allow this to continue?"

Jinx wasn't sure if she was talking to Raziel or some other angel or a God she wasn't even sure she believed was there—maybe she was addressing nothing more than clouds, but she still had to try. It was their last hope. "We are Nephilim!" she cried. "You created us to protect those who cannot protect themselves! Will you allow this _monster_ to destroy all we live for, all we die for? Help us!"

Jinx could already feel her strength fading. _Agramon must have some sort of poison,_ she thought. _Or maybe this is just the power of a wound inflicted by a Greater Demon._ She took a deep breath, eyes searching the clouds with anticipation.

Nothing happened.

_"They won't help you,"_ Agramon laughed at her. _"The angels will not interfere with free will. Your death was free will."_

Jinx didn't spare the demon a glance. "I'm not asking for myself, or even the rest of the Enclave," her voice faltered a bit; she gasped for air and forced it back up to a shout. "If you won't help us, then help the mundanes! Don't let this abomination hunt and destroy them, send it back to where it came from!"

Nothing happened. The storm clouds remained in place and the sun remained hidden.

Jinx felt a tear slowly slide down her cheek. "Please," she whispered with a quiet sob. "Help them…because we can't."

Agramon laughed again. _"Pathetic little girl, you do not have the power to command—"_

"I didn't command." Jinx didn't know where the sudden courage came from, but she somehow found enough to look back into those demonic white eyes. And then she smiled. "I requested."

_"You dare—"_

She never found out what it was that she dared to do, for a cool breeze gently wafted against her face. A breeze that hadn't existed a moment before. She ignored whatever Agramon was saying and lifted her eyes back to the eastern horizon, to that one spot in the clouds that she had stared at for so long, praying for it to thin. The thunderheads glowed with light in that area, as though the sun fought to be seen but couldn't quite break through; another second passed with no change in the strength of that glow, but Jinx waited patiently, a small smile still tugging at her lips.

The glow brightened.

_"Impossible…"_ Agramon muttered.

Jinx turned her eyes back to Agramon and allowed her smile to grow. "Nothing is impossible."

If the demon had been formed with legs, Jinx would've said it lunged toward her. The black smoke flew at her once again, incredibly fast, howling with rage—

The clouds finally broke open. Golden sunlight spilled down upon the rooftop, nearly blinding Jinx. She instinctively squeezed her eyes shut against the unexpected brightness, but opened them again when she heard a faint hiss.

Agramon hovered directly before her, writhing and shrinking rapidly. Those white eyes turned on her for one final time, and his voice was full of vehemence when he hissed, _"I shall return, Nephilim! Mark my words, I shall return…"_

Jinx ignored the threat. She turned her face up to the warmth that seemed to come from heaven itself and closed her eyes once again; a feeling of contentment washed over her, even as her strength continued to ebb away, and she knew that they had won.

_Thank you._

The bright light glowing against her closed lids began to fade into black. She took a deep breath, released it slowly, and gave in to whatever was tugging at her strength and numbing the pain of her wound. She had completed her part of their plan, she could now relinquish to this peaceful oblivion that called to her.

"_Jinx!"_

It took her a moment to recognize the call as a human voice, and another after that to realize it was still speaking. But what was it saying…Jinx struggled to concentrate…she should be able to recognize that voice—then it hit her. _Jem!_ She started fighting against the darkness that slowly sapped her strength, fought to open her eyes.

When Jinx finally forced her eyes open once again, she realized that the darkness hadn't been entirely within her mind. The sun had completely hidden itself behind the storm clouds yet again, the small rent in the cover that saved them having sown itself shut. But there was still enough ambient light for her to see Jem's scared face. Some of that fear faded away into relief when he saw that her eyes were open.

"Jinx, just hang on," Jem quietly pleaded. "_Iratzes_ won't help you with this wound, but Charlotte sent Magnus a fire message and he'll be here any minute. He can heal a wound from a Greater Demon. Stay with me, Jinx, please. Don't let go."

"Jem," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Are you all right?"

A strangled laugh came with his answer. "Am _I_ all right? Jinx, you have a wound inflicted by a Greater Demon and you're worried about me? No, I am not _all right_, but I am also not the one of us who's bleeding."

She shook her head. "No, I mean when Agramon moved toward you, did it do anything to you?"

Jem frowned at her slightly, and tightened his hold on her. Jinx started; she hadn't even felt his touch before that moment. Still couldn't, actually. That should have worried her.

_So why doesn't it?_

Thankfully, she didn't have time to dwell on the mildly disturbing thought before Jem answered.

"It never moved toward me, Jinx," he whispered. "After you jumped in front of Gabriel, it stayed on you. It never moved away from you and—" Jem's voice broke. After a moment of silence, he continued in a quaking voice. "You were so still, Jinx. You fell to your knees and didn't move again, didn't even make a sound to let us know what was wrong. The sun came out only a moment after that."

Jinx closed her eyes again, trying to make sense of what he told her. "I didn't say anything?"

"No, you didn't. Try not to talk so much, Jinx. Conserve your strength."

She shook her head, still confused. "I never said a word? But Agramon is gone, right? It got sent back to wherever it came from?"

"Yes, it's gone. The sunlight hit it and it vanished. It didn't die, of course, but it's gone for now." Jem hesitated, then said, "Magnus should be here any moment, Jinx. Just hang on a little while longer."

Jinx opened her eyes. She stared at his hand for a moment, where it pressed a bundle of cloth against the puncture wound in her abdomen in an attempt to slow the bleeding. For a moment, her thoughts shifted to complete and utter loathing for the demon that had used her own blade to injure her, but she pushed those thoughts away and focused on Jem's hand. She couldn't feel the pressure from it. Or any pain. She saw that he sat on the roof and held her in his lap with one arm around her back, but she couldn't feel his touch. The realization hit her then, and she shifted her gaze back to stare into Jem's eyes. _I'm sorry, James._ "Jem—"

He quietly _shushed_ her. "You need to conserve your strength, Jinx. Don't try to talk anymore. Magnus will help, but you need to have enough strength left to fight."

She was sorely tempted to simply accept what he said. But she couldn't. She would not—could not—leave him like that. "No, Jem, there's something you need to know."

Jem's confliction showed in his eyes as he struggled to accept what she implied. An endless moment passed before he nodded his consent.

"I—" The words stuck in Jinx's throat. _Maybe it would be better if he doesn't know,_ she thought, but then realized that the Silent Brothers would probably tell him. _Better that he hears it from me._ "I'm…" Jinx took a moment to work up the courage, then plunged on. "I'm pregnant, Jem, and I don't think I need to say they're yours."

Jem stared at her. He blinked once, then again. Then his eyes grew almost comically wide—Jinx would've laughed in a different situation—and his lips parted in pure shock. She held his gaze steadily. He blinked a few times in rapid succession and shook his head, obviously stunned. "I'm sorry. _They_?"

A nervous chuckle escaped Jinx's throat. "Yeah, Magnus told me I'm—I _was_ going to have twins. He found out when he verified that the rogue warlock had stored his power within my mind. I first learned about it from Brother Enoch, after we were temporarily paralyzed. That's what distracted me these past months. I wasn't sure how to tell anyone about it, let alone you, and after my conversation with Magnus, I knew that if I told you, you would never let me help stop the demon. I should've told you. I'm sorry I didn't."

Jem was still staring at her with absolute shock, apparently struggling to accept the revelation she'd just dumped on his head. His eyes moved down to her wound. "So that's why it struck you here…"

The edges of Jinx's vision started turning black, further confirming her suspicions. "Magnus won't come in time, Jem," she whispered as gently as she could. Silver eyes widened again and he shook his head, starting to correct her, but she cut him off. "Don't. I'm dying and nothing short of divine intervention is going to stop it." _And I'm sure we've already had our daily allotment of divine intervention._ "Please, you have to promise me something first."

He shook his head slightly, desperation clear in his eyes and voice. "No. No, you're not going to die. Everything will be just fine. Magnus will be here any time now—"

"Jem," she could hear her voice fading and struggled to keep her eyes open. "Promise me you'll move on…promise you'll recover. Please, James…promise me you won't turn into my father."

A tear slipped down Jem's face to splash onto Jinx's cheek. "You're going to be fine," he whispered. "Just hang on. Magnus is almost here."

"James," she pushed a bit more force into her voice, "you have to promise this. I'll come back and haunt you if you don't, just to be ornery, and you know I would."

He laughed, but it sounded reluctant and closer to a sob. Jem rested his forehead on hers and quietly sighed. "Yes, you would." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I p-promise you, Jinx, that I'll…move on after you…I promise I won't become like your father."

"Good enough for me," she whispered as more of his salty tears fell on her face. "You have to get over me. Someone, someday…" The darkness creeping over her eyes was almost complete; she struggled to get the rest of it out. "Another girl will come along who will see past your addiction, Jem, and you better not be hung up on me when that happens."

Jinx weakly lifted a hand up to trace her fingers down his cheek, leaving a trail of blood on his pale skin. "I love you, James Carstairs, and if there's a life after this, I'll love you then." She barely realized it when her hand fell limp at her side. Her vision was nearly black now, there was just a tiny bit of silver where Jem should be, and as the last of her strength faded away, she whispered, "don't forget me…"

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><p><strong>Yes, I stole Jace's line. It seemed to fit. So, what's your theory? Is she really dead or will she survive? Please review!<br>**


	19. Shock & Denial

**Author's note:** Hello, my faithful readers! I have a surprise for you today and hopefully it's a good one! But you're going to have to read this chapter before you find out what it is ;)

**Disclaimer:** Jem is still owned by Cassandra Clare. As is the rest of Infernal Devices. Jinx is still owned by me. As is the rest of the plot of this fic.

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><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen: Shock &amp; Denial<strong>

The Enclave remained in its loose circle formation, though their attention now centered on two young Shadowhunters instead of a demon. Except for the occasional cry of a seagull and near-inaudible murmurings in the crowd, the air was still and silent. No one was willing to interrupt the silver-haired boy as he cried and held the limp body of a girl who had given her life for the mundanes of London. Young deaths were inevitable among Nephilim, expected even—and yet no one would deny James Carstairs his grief.

Will hovered on the outer edge of the circle. He wanted to comfort his _parabatai_, he wanted to help somehow, but he really wasn't the type of person one wanted to speak with in situations like this. Jem was usually the one people wanted to be around, he was the one who could offer comfort under any circumstances. That obviously wasn't an option today.

But Will couldn't just stand around and do absolutely nothing, not when his _parabatai_ was hurting so badly. He had to do _something_, at least try to help.

Will stepped toward Jem, not sure what he would say, or even if Jem would accept his presence; all he knew at this moment was that he had to try.

"Herondale."

He froze. A small sigh wormed its way out of him as he turned to face the owner of that voice. "What do you want, Gabriel?" he snarled as he moved closer to the Lightwood boy.

Gabriel stood uncomfortably at the edge of the roof, directly in front of the stairs that led to the street below. "My father and I are leaving," he glanced down the stairs, and didn't lift his eyes back up to Will when he continued, "would you tell Carstairs I'm sorry? I don't know why I didn't move when that demon came at me. I'm leaving for school in Idris tomorrow, you see, so I can't tell him myself." Green eyes finally came up, but they didn't focus on Will. They stared past him, toward the circle of Shadowhunters still surrounding Jem and Jinx. Or rather, Jinx's body. "I was wrong about her. You wouldn't know this, but I once told her women shouldn't fight. She proved me wrong." There was a pause, and then Gabriel murmured, "I wish I could have known her better."

It was so quiet, Will wasn't sure he had meant to say it aloud. He decided to ignore it and jerked a nod. "I'll tell him."

Gabriel's eyes shifted back to Will. "I'm grateful for that, William." He paused, looking like he wanted to say something else, but then abruptly turned and started walking down the stairs.

Will silently watched as the Lightwood boy disappeared down the stairs. Now he almost felt guilty for what he was planning to do with Gabriel's sister at the next Christmas party. Will shook his head and pushed the thought firmly out of his mind; now was not the time to think about things like that. He turned his back on the stairs and stepped toward Jem—

Light footsteps sounded on the stairs again, moving very quickly. Will, irritated at the interruption, turned to the sound, expecting to see one of the bait Nephilim—but no, the figure that leapt the final three stairs to land lightly on the rooftop was most definitely _not_ a Shadowhunter.

"Where is she?" Magnus Bane asked as his gold-green eyes scanned the roof. A moment later he started moving toward the cluster of people without waiting for a response.

Will caught the warlock's arm to stop him. "It's too late, Magnus."

"I have to be certain."

Magnus shook himself out of Will's grip and vanished into the Enclave, slipping through small openings in the crowd with Will hot on his heels. _What is his problem?_ Will almost growled as he struggled to keep up with the elusive figure. _Why does he care so much? He didn't even know her._ Will suddenly broke through into open space; he stopped too quickly and stumbled a bit, the sight in front of him enough to make him want to disappear.

Jem still sat in the same spot as before, holding onto Jinx's body as though it would kill him to let go, and his face was streaked with drying tears and blood. Magnus knelt beside him, eyes closed, with one long-fingered hand resting on Jinx's wound. Jem stared at Magnus, looking to Will like he was silently pleading the warlock to say something. It didn't require much thought to guess what he wanted to hear.

Another moment of silence passed.

Magnus opened his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry, James," he whispered, almost too quietly for Will to hear. "They're gone."

That phrase struck Will as odd. Why would Magnus say _they_? Jinx was the only fatality. Will frowned, confused—and then he remembered.

Three months ago. Two days after Christmas. He had said he hoped they were better about voicing their feelings in private and they had both blushed a fiery red. Will's eyes slipped shut in complete and utter shock. His suspicion was right. Jem and Jinx _had_ shared a night together.

_She was pregnant…_

Will hesitantly opened his eyes. For the first time in a long while, he didn't want to be right.

Jem squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head, and mumbled something in Mandarin. Will didn't know what it meant, but the sorrowful tone was unmistakable.

Magnus stood and moved over to Will. "You can help him more than I." The warlock hesitated before he continued toward the stairs, and then said, "I wish I could have gotten here in time. She deserved more than sixteen years to live."

Will nodded as the tall man drifted away. "Yes, she did," he murmured. After a moment of uncertainty, he moved closer to Jem and sat beside his _parabatai_'s trembling form. He didn't try to say anything, though; he knew that nothing he could say would make Jem feel better. In fact, he knew that whatever he tried to say would most likely make matters worse. So Will sat silently on the cold rooftop, offering meager consolation, as his best and only friend grieved the loss of a truly wonderful girl—as well as that of his unborn child.

Will never knew how long they sat there, completely oblivious to time and all else. His gaze stayed focused on the peaceful expression on her still face as he remembered everything that had made her Jinx—not Ríona, never Ríona; even though he did remember moments when "queenly" was the only word that could describe her, he could never think of her as Ríona. Jem was the one who had been allowed to know Ríona, the only one who ever knew her. Will had known Jinx. The girl who was fearless, determined, stubborn, almost scarily intelligent; the girl who never allowed him to push her away, who never backed down from a challenge; the girl with an affinity for puzzles and an almost ceaseless smile; _that_ was Jinx. Ríona was the girl who showed her vulnerable side, who explicitly trusted the person she was with, who never felt any shame while voicing her fears and hopes and dreams…the girl who looked peaceful.

Will had never seen that side of her.

Not that he blamed her. He wouldn't have opened up to himself, either, if their roles had been reversed. But there had been a part of him, a very small part he always forced himself to ignore, that had hoped to earn her trust someday. She had been his friend, especially in the months following her temporary paralysis, and now he would never get the chance to tell her how grateful he was for that. She would never know how much she meant to him.

On a sudden impulse, he reached past Jem to lightly brush a loose lock of hair away from Jinx's face, and he didn't know where the words came from, but he whispered them anyway. "_Ave atque vale_, Jinx Ó Bradagáin. You will always live in our memories."

"Jem," Charlotte's quiet voice sounded from behind Will. Everything seemed muted now; even the seagulls had ceased their harsh cries. "Brother Enoch is here. He'll take…he'll prepare the funeral."

A few seconds passed in absolute silence. Will twisted around to look at Charlotte and saw that she, Henry, and Brother Enoch were the only other people on the roof. The entire Enclave had left and Will hadn't even noticed.

The disfigured monk, silent as the air, drifted over to stand beside them and placed a hand on Jem's shoulder. Will didn't know what the monk told him, probably never would know, but it must have been something incredible to hear, for Jem finally relinquished his hold on Jinx and allowed Enoch to lift her limp body. The monk paused beside Will as he moved back to the stairs.

_He shall need a friend in the coming months, young Herondale,_ Enoch's words echoed in Will's head. _Do not fail him, and do not be afraid to let him grieve alone when the time comes._

Will stood and nodded to the monk, silently accepting the scarred man's advice.

Jem rose to his feet, swayed unsteadily for a moment, then turned to watch as Enoch disappeared down the stairs with Jinx's body. After they vanished, he whispered, so quietly Will almost didn't hear him, "Benedict was right."

Curiosity immediately sparked within Will, but he refrained from asking. Enoch was right; Jem did not need questions right now. He needed only a friend.

Red-rimmed, faintly swollen silver eyes finally met Will's. "He once said," Jem continued in a hoarse voice, "that he had known Jinx's mother. He also said the wound from losing a person like her never completely heals." A shudder moved through Jem's slim frame, and his voice lowered even further. "How can I recover from this, William? How can something that hurts this much ever heal? First my parents, now her…I have always believed that everything happens for a reason, but what could possibly be worth this?"

Will didn't know what to say to that. He draped an arm over Jem's shoulders and gently prodded his silvery _parabatai_ toward the stairs. "I don't know, James," he answered, pitching his voice low enough that Charlotte and Henry wouldn't hear. "I don't know what to say to help you through this." Will hesitated, not sure where the next words in his head sprang from. He didn't want to make anything worse or give Jem false hope—but maybe false hope was exactly what James needed right now. "I won't claim to know the future, but keep that faith, and you might find the answer someday."

There was a pause. Will momentarily panicked, afraid he'd gone too far, but then he heard a whisper so quiet it could have been mistaken for the wind.

"Thank you, William."

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><p><strong>I never thought I'd say this, but don't review just yet. Take a moment and look over to the right side of the screen. There should be a little button there that will take you to chapter twenty, where all my reasons for breaking Jem's heart will be revealed!<br>**


	20. Agony & Acceptance

**Author's note:** Alright, final chapter! Yes, getting two new chapters is the surprise I mentioned. It's because CP is out in four (FOUR! *squee*) days and I always wanted to get this story marked as complete before it came out. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** For the twentieth and final time: The Infernal Devices is NOT mine! It's Cassie Clare's. Good gravy, people! Weren't the first nineteen chapters enough?

Just out of curiosity, did anyone notice that I never once repeated a disclaimer in all twenty chapters?

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><p><strong>Epilogue: Agony &amp; Acceptance<strong>

Jem would never remember much about Jinx's funeral. It was a very small affair; not many people had been close to her. Jessamine didn't even make an appearance. Or maybe she did. He honestly did not remember. There were only two things that remained clear in Jem's memory: the way Jinx looked like she could've been sleeping as those greedy flames licked around her small, defenseless body, and the conversation he'd had with her grandfather.

He didn't know when the Irish man had arrived and he didn't know when the man had left. Jem did remember his surprise when the aged man had walked up and introduced himself as Séighín Ó Bradagáin. No one had expected anyone from the Ó Bradagáin clan to attend Jinx's funeral, let alone the head of the clan. Jem's memory of the man's physical appearance was blurred, he wasn't sure why; perhaps because he could see Jinx's body burning down to ash behind the Irish man while they spoke of her.

Séighín had been, not surprisingly, completely unrepentant of not inviting Jinx to Ireland. "I couldn't do that to my family, lad," the old man had explained in his thick Irish brogue. "Surely you know what I mean."

Jem had fought to urge to strangle him. He hadn't trusted himself to speak for mild fear of saying exactly what he thought of the man, and had forced himself to settle for simply glaring at Séighín.

"You see, young Carstairs," Séighín had continued after it was clear Jem wouldn't respond, "her mother was the type of person who could change everyone she met. It was impossible to meet my Aithche and not be different for it, whether good or bad. She was…special, Aithche was. She had this fire about her that made you feel alive, that seemed to touch your very soul. Everyone who knew her either loved her or hated her. There was no middle ground to be found." He paused again, seeming to choke on the next words a bit. "She held us Ó Bradagáins together. Aithche was the only reason we could stand one another's company. It tore us apart when she died. My family's never been the same since she left us."

Séighín had reached out and latched onto Jem's arm then, and Jem remembered being vaguely surprised at the strength in his grip. As well as the intensity in his voice.

"I couldn't let that happen again. I could not allow some girl to bring my family back together only to tear us all apart again. For all I knew, little Ríona was exactly like her mother. It would've been the death of the Ó Bradagáin clan."

Jem had stared at the man and hadn't even tried to veil his disgust. "She was," he said in a voice trembling with emotion, even to his own ears. "Ríona was exactly like her mother. I won't claim to know Aithche, but when you described her, you described them both. And I don't regret loving Ríona. No matter how painful her death is, it was all worth it. She is—was worth this pain."

Séighín had only nodded and looked as though his actions were justified. "Exactly why I didn't invite her to Éire. My family is more important than a girl I don't know and I could not let that girl tear us apart. We've only just begun repairing the damage from Aithche's death. Ríona's would've ruined us."

The man had turned to walk away then, but seemed to think better of it. He stopped half-turned away from Jem, and said, "A word of advice, lad: you're never going to fully recover from this pain you're feelin'. I can see it in your eyes. I felt the same way when I attended Aithche's funeral. To this day, I still feel that pain. No one's worth that type of sorrow, young man, not even someone like her."

Séighín had tried to move away again, but Jem didn't give him the chance. He had caught the older man's arm, forcing him to face Jem once again. "I don't give a damn what you think of me. You can say whatever you like, but you'll never change my mind. Jinx was worth it. _Your granddaughter_ was worth every last bit of this pain, no matter how long it lasts! And you have no right to say otherwise. You didn't know her like I did."

Jem vaguely remembered shouting something that wasn't very complimentary at the man, and then he felt strong hands on his arms pulling him away from the head of the Ó Bradagáin clan.

Everything else from that day was blurred in Jem's memory. The days that followed were the same indistinct haze in his mind; they stretched into weeks, weeks eventually into months, and Jem seemed to live in a daze—no, he wasn't even truly living. He still trained, still fought with Will, still assisted Charlotte whenever she needed it, but his actions were automatic, like the ticking of a clock. There was very little to distinguish one day from the one before or the one after. The only thing he could clearly remember about those weeks and months was the only thing that remained constant: the pain.

It made him feel empty, hollow, almost dead somehow, and yet he still ached; it was as though…Jinx's explanation was still the best he could think of. He felt as though someone had ripped his soul out of his body, tore it up into innumerable shreds, and returned to him nothing but the smallest of pieces, only just enough to keep him alive. He had mostly felt numb on the warehouse rooftop and at her funeral, but after he lost his temper with…that man, the excruciating agony had arrived in full force.

Speaking in general terms, it was the same way he had felt after his parents' deaths. This pain wasn't like the physical pain he constantly dealt with because of the drug; he couldn't simply ignore this emotional anguish. It penetrated deeper, it hung over his thoughts and clouded his awareness and judgment. Sometimes it made him want to scream, sometimes he wanted to do anything he could to bring them all back, no matter the cost. Memories of moments that could never happen again pervaded his every waking thought and even haunted his dreams.

But this wasn't the same pain he'd felt when he lost his parents. This was different. Not necessarily greater, just…_different_. It wasn't that one situation was easier to accept than the other and it wasn't that he loved Jinx more than he loved his parents; it was just that he loved Jinx in a different way, and the memories that hung over his thoughts were of a different form this time. When his parents had died, the memories that had haunted him had mostly been of his mother's caring, gentle touches; of weapons lessons with his father; of watching his mother and father spar; of mealtimes with them; those little moments that he'd always taken for granted had swirled through his thoughts, day and night. That same thing was happening again, but this time was…different. Exactly what made it different, Jem didn't know. The memories still focused on those little moments he'd taken for granted, like the way Jinx moved when she walked across a room, the way she would smile at him, the sound of her laugh, the determined look she got when a puzzle seemed to be outsmarting her.

Jem found that he could not remain in the drawing room for very long before getting lost in the memory of how she had looked that day before the fight with Agramon, when she had seemed to be glowing with peace and contentment. He would always smile at that memory, the pain of her loss momentarily forgotten—then he would realize that he could never see it again, and the agony would return with a vengeance. Her bedroom was worse. Whenever he stepped inside that room, it was almost like she was still there. He would simply sit on her bed, close his eyes, and he could almost hear her telling him her story once again. If he stayed long enough, he could almost hear her words fading into moans, almost feel her soft skin underneath his fingertips, almost smell her, almost see her the way she had looked that night. He could almost believe she was still alive.

Sometimes he would feel as though her memory was fading from his mind; he couldn't quite picture the exact color of her eyes, or he couldn't remember the sound of her Cajun drawl, and panic would set in. He didn't want to forget her. So he would run to her bedroom, where he knew he could always bring those memories back, and the pain along with them. He would feel so guilty whenever her memory seemed to fade like that. How dare he forget her, after all she'd freely given him, after all they'd shared? How dare he throw it all away? _He could not forget her._

She had asked him not to.

But she had also made him promise that he would recover. There were days he almost hated her for that. How could she ask that of him? How could he possibly recover from losing someone like her? And it wasn't only her loss she asked him to move on from, it was also the loss of his unborn children!

Though he knew he shouldn't, there were times when he couldn't help wondering about those twins. His children…_their_ children…Who would they have been, given the chance to live? Would they have looked like Jinx, with her dark skin and hazel eyes? Or would they have looked more Chinese, or perhaps British? Whenever his thoughts drifted down that lonely path, one question in particular always haunted him: Would they have inherited his addiction?

He never allowed himself to dwell on those thoughts very long. One could not change the past and wondering would only serve to drive him mad.

Jem never told anyone that Jinx had been pregnant when she died. Not even Will. He came close, on several occasions. Will was the only one in the Institute who didn't try to divert Jem's thoughts away from Jinx. He would let Jem sit and talk about her for hours on end; he would let Jem lash out and release the fury that seemed to build for no reason; he even left Jem alone whenever he felt like grieving by himself, even though Jem never asked him to leave.

To be completely honest, Jem was shocked. He had never thought that Will could be so understanding.

Jem was grateful for Will's efforts, he truly was, but sometimes he wished Will would stop. Those efforts made him feel as though he was caught between grieving for the ones he'd lost and caring for those who still lived. He knew he wasn't being the friend he should be to Will and he felt guilty for that; while on the other side of things, he couldn't even bring himself to think about accepting Jinx's death and simply moving on with his life. It seemed wrong somehow; it felt like he was betraying her memory, or brushing it aside as if it didn't matter anymore. As if _she_ didn't matter anymore.

And nothing could be further from the truth.

He remembered experiencing a similar double-edged guilt after his parents' deaths. He'd had an escape then, though: his violin. Jem had poured his heart and soul, every last bit of emotion that had built within him into his music; that had been the only way to let it all out. Music had helped him deal with the loss of his parents—to a certain extent, it had helped keep him sane. But it wasn't helping this time. He had tried, after Jinx's funeral and then innumerable instances after that day, to release everything he felt that couldn't be put into words, to pour it into music instead, but he struggled. For the first time in his memory, playing his violin was not easy. The notes seemed to fight him; they came out sounding harsh where they should've been soft, high when they should've been low, or entirely wrong in an inexplicable way. But he didn't give up. Jem kept trying, he kept practicing, he kept trying to make it effortless again. He couldn't give up. He _needed_ it, he needed a way to release all this emotion that couldn't possibly be expressed in words.

For six months, nothing changed. He felt helpless, because he knew he could never bring Jinx back and he didn't know how to keep his promise to her. He suffered from the soul-wrenching anguish that came with fully realizing exactly what he had lost that morning on the warehouse roof. He felt guilty, because of his lack of attention to Will and maybe, just maybe, there was something he could've done to save her. He became frustrated and angry some days, because he knew better than to look back and wonder, and because nothing helped ease the pain. There was no escaping this cacophony of emotions. He tried suppressing it, he tried welcoming it and wallowing, he tried everything he could think of. Nothing helped, nothing changed.

And then one day in early October—exactly one year after he'd first met Jinx—he took his violin to her bedroom. Jem had been avoiding that particular room for the past few weeks, hoping that it would help somehow. It hadn't. He knew that trying to keep her out of his mind would be futile today, so he succumbed to the burning need to remember. As soon as he stepped through the door, all of those memories and emotions he had tried to suppress came rising up in a flood, momentarily overwhelming him with their intensity. He closed his eyes under the onslaught and felt a tear slip down his cheek to drop onto his violin. Jem looked down at the simple wooden instrument in his hand, wondering why he'd brought it when it had done nothing but fight him for six months—and then he decided to try once more. He slowly moved to stand at the foot of the bed and lifted the violin to its place under his chin; he paused, the bow hovering just above the strings, and thought about what he would play for her.

Then he closed his eyes again and stopped thinking about it.

The bow slid across the strings, effortlessly evoking beautiful notes that danced through the air and twined around him. A hauntingly bittersweet melody emerged from those seemingly random notes to fill the room with equal parts love and pain, longing and acceptance. He didn't know where the inspiration came from. All he knew was that he had finally found the release he'd searched for these past six months. He poured his heart and soul into the heartbreaking yet sweet melody, and allowed it to ease his pain, if only for a moment.

Jem didn't know how long he played that night. When the melody eventually tapered off and the last note finally faded away, he stood still for another few moments and soaked in the silence. He expected the pain to return, and indeed it did, but it wasn't near as intense as before. He waited, still anticipating the sharp stab that always came. This time it did not come. A dull ache settled over him—but it was manageable. It didn't completely overwhelm his every thought. That was…odd. Definitely nothing like what he had become almost accustomed to.

Jem opened his eyes to find himself staring at the chest of drawers that stood guard beside Jinx's bed. He moved toward it without thinking, setting his violin and bow on the bed as he did so, and reached toward the topmost pull; the drawer slid out easily with only a slight protest of wood grating on wood when he lightly tugged on it.

It was still there, lying neatly folded on the bottom of the drawer, with only a thin film of dust present to mute its color.

He carefully—almost reverently—lifted Jinx's silk scarf out of the drawer and patted it lightly, making the dust puff into the air and rise up to his nose. A faint smell mixed with the dust and his eyes slipped shut once again under the onslaught of a surprisingly vivid memory. A memory of fresh air, of pure Irish rain in the countryside; he felt a sudden twinge in the general area of his heart, and yet the sharp stab of pain still did not come. He opened his eyes again and stared at the scarf for a moment before allowing his gaze to wander over the room. There were memories stored in every corner. Jem allowed those memories to wash over his thoughts, but that blinding agony still did not accompany them. A small smile tugged at his lips as he carefully set the scarf back she had left it.

_Perhaps I am finally becoming ready to let her go._

For the first time since her death, Jem did not feel guilty about that.

Living grew easier after that day. There were still bad days, of course; days when he nearly screamed aloud because of the agony, days when he was still torn by guilt, days when he could not focus his thoughts on anything other than Jinx, but a new trend accompanied them now. He no longer felt hollow every time those extreme feelings passed, sometimes yes, but not _every_ time. The depression that had haunted him and had made him live almost completely unaware of his surroundings started to recede. He found that he could laugh with Will again and not feel too guilty about it. He could truly appreciate the taste of food and the warmth of a cheerful fire again. He could play his violin and it was as effortless as breathing. The progress didn't all come at once, of course. It was slow. But it was still notable.

Jem felt the pain gradually lessen during the months following that October day; it never left, it probably never would, but it did lessen. It was still constant, yet it was bearable now. During those first six months, he had thought that he would never recover, that it would be impossible to accept her death and move on; now, he had days when he could think of her, smile at the memory, and then focus himself back on whatever it was he had been doing before the memory hit. Jem felt like he was finally learning to live again. He was amazed at that sometimes, simply because he hadn't thought it possible.

He didn't think it possible on Christmas, either. There were too many memories, too many powerful emotions related to that day to allow for improvement. Jem almost didn't attend the Christmas party; he only went because Will asked him to. It was torture. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of Jinx. Mistletoe brought back the memory of their first kiss; occasionally a girl would pass by in a dress the same shade of deep blue Jinx's had been; the music evoked his memories of how good it had felt to hold her in his arms and dance with her. He couldn't genuinely enjoy himself when he was surrounded by those painful memories. And Jem had never once thought he would actually be grateful for Will being Will, but that night he was. He didn't know what Will did to Gabriel's sister; to be entirely honest, he didn't want to know. All he knew was the claim was serious enough for Charlotte to banish Will from the party, which gave Jem an acceptable excuse to leave as well.

Jem discovered something that night that he had never noticed before: He could not look at a pretty girl and admit in words that he thought she was pretty. He couldn't even admit it to himself. The thought would hardly form before he remembered Jinx the way she had looked that day before their fight with Agramon, when she had stood alight with a golden glow at the drawing room window, and he couldn't help comparing the new girl to her. They never measured up. Whether he was close to them or just looking at them from a distance, he couldn't help thinking about Jinx, thinking about how they weren't her. In his mind, Jinx was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

No girl ever escaped that scrutiny.

Despite the resurgence of her memory for that night, Jem continued learning to live again. His life gradually resumed the pace it had held before Jinx had burst into it and turned it upside-down. It wasn't predictable at all, but it was familiar. Falling back into his old routines felt good and rather comforting.

And then one night, in early summer of 1878, he met Tessa Gray.

He'd been absorbed in his violin until he heard the door to his room open. The song he played that night was not the same as the heartbreaking melodies he had been playing for the past year; this one was sweeter, hopeful even, and stemmed from the past eight months or so of recovery. At first he thought the interruption was Will, but then he turned to see this strange girl standing in his doorway instead; she was tall, and striking even in a dressing gown, with thick brown hair and a pair of—amazingly enough—beautiful gray eyes. He was surprised to see her, of course, but since the drug often made it hard for him to sleep, he welcomed any and all distractions. And he was curious about everything Will had told him about this mysterious shape-changing Miss Gray. So he indulged her questions and soon found himself completing entranced by the girl; she made him smile, laugh even. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, both before and after Will interrupted them—until that drug reared its ugly head.

Only after Tessa left his room did he realize that he'd never once thought of Jinx while she was there.

He puzzled over that until eventually slipping into a fitful slumber. Jem awoke the next morning feeling oddly energized and hurriedly readied for breakfast, because he knew she would be present.

And there she was, sitting proudly at the table next to Will, a picture of poise, even though she wore an ill-fitting dress. He didn't know what it was about this girl that made him do it, but he couldn't help smiling at her before falling into the discussion that was making its way around the table. It was only after he and Will left to investigate the abandoned brothel that he realized what it was that he found so oddly irresistible about Tessa Gray.

She had the same type of spirit as Jinx.

If any doubt ever entered his mind about that conclusion, all he had to do was remember her response to Will's claim of an assignation with a certain attractive someone.

Declare his intentions, indeed.

Jem hadn't known any girl except Jinx to talk to Will like that.

Days passed after that revelation and he grew to know more about this shape-changing warlock girl without a mark: He learned some of her fears when she first transformed into Lady Belcourt; he became more firmly convinced of her strength and her fighting spirit after the battle at de Quincey's; he tried to offer her some comfort after she learned that her brother was not a Downworlder…That moment, in the hallway outside Nathaniel's room, she seemed so disturbed by what she had felt during the fight and he wanted so desperately to see her smile. He didn't get the smile he wanted before Charlotte asked to speak with him in the library, but he hoped his words offered her at least a small bit of comfort.

Then came their walk on Blackfriars Bridge. It was so peaceful at first, as if they were the only two people in London. Jem hadn't meant to tell her so much about Will's past—or his own for that matter—but there was just something about Tessa that made him trust her. Walking with her and simply enjoying conversation with another person made that night one of the best he'd had in over a year. It couldn't last, of course, they were attacked by those infernal clockwork creatures and he couldn't sufficiently protect her because of that damn drug.

He decided to tell her the truth about his addiction after that attack because she deserved to know. Jem had found that something about Tessa was pulling him in, something was attracting his attention to her—he had felt this feeling only once before, with Jinx. Unlike then, he now recognized what he felt and he knew he couldn't wait three months to act on it this time. But he couldn't do anything about it until she knew the truth about his condition.

So he told her. And she didn't look at him any differently.

Before he fell asleep that night, a fragment of Jinx's final words echoed through his mind once more:

_"Someone, someday…Another girl will come along who will see past your addiction, Jem, and you better not be hung up on me when that happens."_

The thought of Jinx brought a twinge of pain. Jem knew it always would, but now he could smile at the memory. He could look back at the past, acknowledge it, and then let it go. He may always have moments when he wondered what their twins would have looked like, moments when he wondered how Jinx would've matured over a few more years, but it wouldn't consume him anymore.

After Mortmain's attack on the Institute, after Thomas's funeral, when he—or rather, Church—found Tessa alone in the music room, Jem almost told her how he felt. He _almost_ said it. But his voice cracked, his thoughts suddenly flashed to what had happened to the last girl he'd fallen in love with, and he couldn't bring himself to say it. In that moment, he was a complete and utter coward.

Jem would tell Tessa how he felt. Soon. Just not quite yet.

Later that night, he realized what had stopped him from telling her. The drug was keeping him awake once again, so he dressed as quietly as he could and slipped out into the hallway, quickly and silently making his way to Jinx's bedroom. He found her silk scarf, still in the drawer where he'd left it all those months ago, and took it to Blackfriars Bridge.

He stood above the silent, ever-flowing Thames for a few minutes, allowing himself to get lost in her memory one final time, and then drew his stele.

Jem traced the rune for fire on the silk, whispering as he did so. "I promised you, Jinx, that I would recover. And I have." He lifted his face to the stars hidden behind London's constant cloud cover and smiled as he finished the rune. "You were right. That girl you spoke of found me. I am finally ready to love again."

The soft silk in his hand flamed, painting the bridge with flickering glows and shadows. Ash and sparks lazily drifted upward on the light breeze, rising toward those hidden stars, and Jem watched until the last of them faded away. He waited another moment, then turned to move away.

A sudden gust of surprisingly warm wind swirled around him, carrying the last live spark of flame directly in front of his eyes—and Jem froze. He lifted his eyes back up to the heavens, wondering if it had truly happened. Another small smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he slowly walked back to the Institute, pondering the strange occurrence. He would never tell anyone about it. Jem couldn't even prove to himself that it had happened, but he would always believe it had been more than merely his imagination.

That final gust of wind had carried a laugh. A single, joyous laugh that he knew so well.

And six simple words in a familiar drawl.

_"Just don't forget about me, James."_

Jem turned his face back up to the heavens for one final time that night before he entered the Institute. He could not help smiling again, for he felt truly whole for the first time in over a year.

_I could never forget. I love you, R__í__ona Ó Bradagáin, and I always will. You will forever hold a piece of my soul, forever hold a place in my heart._

_Ave atque vale, Jinx. You will be missed._

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><p><strong>And there you have it. This story is officially complete! Now that you have read it all, you should be able to tell why I wanted to finish it before Clockwork Prince came out. This story does not change anything about what happened in Clockwork Angel. It simply offers an explanation for why Jem was such a chicken at the end. I did my very best to make sure everything in my story is compatible with CA. So, if you read this story after CP comes out and there's something that doesn't make sense or just doesn't work, know that it was my intent to make this story line up with how much information we're given in CA.<strong>

**This isn't essential to the story, obviously, but while I was writing the "Agony" part of this chapter, I had the song "I Miss My Friend" by Darryl Worley playing on repeat. I highly recommend that you look it up on Youtube. It's a beautifully sad song, especially when applied to the death of a loved one.  
><strong>

**I hope you enjoyed reading **_**How Little We Know**_** as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks to all of you who have stuck it out through all twenty chapters! Please review!**


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